Well, our party went great. That's worth something, I guess.
But the Oscars themselves were as lackluster as I can remember, all the way back to Rob Lowe dancing with Snow White (a move that sent Rob straight to TV, do not pass Go, do not collect $200).
Chris Rock was not completely embarrassing -- by which I mean basically that he didn't have to be bleeped. But his monologue was too long, too self-consciously black for too much of it, and showed that he basically didn't know anyone in the room. The lovely tribute to Johnny Carson merely showed how much class Johnny had as an Oscar host... and the comparison didn't bode well for Chris.
The awards, while not completely predictable in a Titanic way, were not surprising. I did feel some of Marty Scorsese's pain: He sits through what looks like an Aviator sweep, only to lose both the big ones (when most people were predicting a best director/best picture split between Aviator and Million Dollar Baby).
Just goes to show what I've said here before: The bulk of the Academy is actors. And actors vote for actors. The only way Clint would have lost Best Director is if another actor had been running.
The show was certainly smooth logistically. I liked the bringing nominees up on stage, and the giving awards out in the audience. They probably saved a good 10 to 15 minutes by not having to wait for the walk from the cheap seats to the stage for all those categories.
But why was Beyonce virtually the only singer? (Because she's black, one has to ask, on a night where Chris Rock was rubbing it home every five minutes?) She looked and sounded beautiful, and I'm sure her agent's phone is ringing off the hook today. But come on... there are other singers out there.
And where were the Best Picture clips? What, did they decide it was such a weak year overall we didn't need to be reminded of the movies? At our party, we all missed the clips. And we could have used a nice Chuck Workman montage about -- well, about anything. Something to remind us this was a show about the movies! (The opening montage was a bit unfocused and odd.)
Best speeches: Jamie Foxx (duh), the guy who won the Gene Herscholt Humanitarian Award (and who could teach Al Pacino a thing or two about delivering a speech!), and the Sound Mixing winner to pointed out (rightfully), that these awards are not technical awards, they are artistic awards.
Best awards: Brad Bird for The Incredibles (Best Animated Film) -- for my money, by far the best film of the year. (But those actors won't vote for movies where they're not onscreen.) And Charlie Kaufman et al. for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Best Original Screenplay).
Other than that, a lackluster ceremony to celebrate a lackluster year at the movies.
Oh well. At least the food was good at our party.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Saturday, February 26, 2005
MISSING WALT
Sorry I haven't been blogging this week. Our kids are home (winter break, more commonly known as "ski week"), and since we couldn't take them skiing, we've been trying to at least hang with them.
We didn't just sit around playing board games all week, though. For two days this week, we headed slightly southeast to take advantage of one of the benefits of being a southern Californian: Discount tickets to Disneyland.
Disneyland always has some form of zip-code-driven special this time of year, and this year it was a two-fer: Buy one park, get the second free. So off we went first to Disneyland, then to California Adventure.
California Adventure is the new park, of course, devised when the Disney folk decided all that parking lot acreage could be generating more revenue. We've gone to it quite a bit more often than Disneyland in recent years somehow -- Our kids like it, possibly because it's so much less crowded (i.e., less popular). But we've never done the two parks back to back before.
And I was deeply struck by the difference.
Disneyland was the brain child of Walt Disney himself. The man who invented the theme park (not the amusement park, the theme park). And still, years after his death, years after the Michael Eisners of the world have stuck their corporate thumbs all over the place, it still sings of his imagination from every corner.
Disneyland is more than a park built around a theme: It's a park built around values. Specifically, the values Walt Disney held dear. Disney loved adventure. He loved the notion of the frontier. He loved fantasy. He loved the future.
And Disneyland, by no consequence, is divided (primarily) into Adventureland, Frontierland, Fantasyland, and Tomorrowland. When we move from the Jungle Cruise to Tom Sawyer's Island, we are walking in the footsteps of Walt's imagination, of Walt's deep loves.
Would anyone design a park this way today? No. For evidence, look at California Adventure. Now, it's a park with some very fun attractions. And the artistic design work is quite beautiful in places. But imagination? Values? Sorry, those were left across the plaza at Disneyland.
California Adventure is based on, well, regions of California. There's a Hollywood section, a sort of redwoodsy section, a boardwalk section, a nod to wine country and agriculture and aviation. Not a lot of imagination there. (Especially when you realize that the park is in California, where the "real" version of what they feature is presumably available.)
Also, as I moved from ride to ride, I realized that every single ride at California Adventure is based on something else. Tower of Terror is (a) your basic lift-and-drop ride with the Twilight Zone thrown in. Grizzly Rapids you can find in any water park. The roller coasters are well, roller coasters. It's Tough to Be a Bug is the same 3-D show Disney's been doing since Captain EO back in Tomorrowland, and this time borrowing from an animated movie Disney owns. Same with the Muppet 3-D attraction. Even Soaring Over California, by far the park's best ride, is a motion simulator version of Circle-Vision from the old Tomorrowland days. (Anyone out there remember the wonderful Circle-Vision, one of the many Tomorrowland attractions that is no more?)
Not so back in Disneyland. Was there anything like the Jungle Cruise before Walt imagined it? Pirates of the Caribbean? It's a Small World? Even Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln, or the Matterhorn? All of these came out of the Imagineers' imagination, not from plot lines already created for other synergistic properties.
Disneyland would never be created today. Not the same way. Not as the product of vision and values, rather than focus groups and committees watching their backs and corporate greed.
We had fun in both parks. But we had way more fun at Disneyland -- even though we were there in the rain. I talked too much about what Disneyland used to be like. (The Skyway. The horses on Main Street. Adventures in Inner Space. E-ticket rides. The Swiss Family Robinson treehouse.) But somehow my kids didn't seem to mind my reminiscing. In fact, today, Cory even asked me to sing the "Carousel of Progress" song one more time.
My kids don't even realize it. But they miss Walt Disney, too.
We didn't just sit around playing board games all week, though. For two days this week, we headed slightly southeast to take advantage of one of the benefits of being a southern Californian: Discount tickets to Disneyland.
Disneyland always has some form of zip-code-driven special this time of year, and this year it was a two-fer: Buy one park, get the second free. So off we went first to Disneyland, then to California Adventure.
California Adventure is the new park, of course, devised when the Disney folk decided all that parking lot acreage could be generating more revenue. We've gone to it quite a bit more often than Disneyland in recent years somehow -- Our kids like it, possibly because it's so much less crowded (i.e., less popular). But we've never done the two parks back to back before.
And I was deeply struck by the difference.
Disneyland was the brain child of Walt Disney himself. The man who invented the theme park (not the amusement park, the theme park). And still, years after his death, years after the Michael Eisners of the world have stuck their corporate thumbs all over the place, it still sings of his imagination from every corner.
Disneyland is more than a park built around a theme: It's a park built around values. Specifically, the values Walt Disney held dear. Disney loved adventure. He loved the notion of the frontier. He loved fantasy. He loved the future.
And Disneyland, by no consequence, is divided (primarily) into Adventureland, Frontierland, Fantasyland, and Tomorrowland. When we move from the Jungle Cruise to Tom Sawyer's Island, we are walking in the footsteps of Walt's imagination, of Walt's deep loves.
Would anyone design a park this way today? No. For evidence, look at California Adventure. Now, it's a park with some very fun attractions. And the artistic design work is quite beautiful in places. But imagination? Values? Sorry, those were left across the plaza at Disneyland.
California Adventure is based on, well, regions of California. There's a Hollywood section, a sort of redwoodsy section, a boardwalk section, a nod to wine country and agriculture and aviation. Not a lot of imagination there. (Especially when you realize that the park is in California, where the "real" version of what they feature is presumably available.)
Also, as I moved from ride to ride, I realized that every single ride at California Adventure is based on something else. Tower of Terror is (a) your basic lift-and-drop ride with the Twilight Zone thrown in. Grizzly Rapids you can find in any water park. The roller coasters are well, roller coasters. It's Tough to Be a Bug is the same 3-D show Disney's been doing since Captain EO back in Tomorrowland, and this time borrowing from an animated movie Disney owns. Same with the Muppet 3-D attraction. Even Soaring Over California, by far the park's best ride, is a motion simulator version of Circle-Vision from the old Tomorrowland days. (Anyone out there remember the wonderful Circle-Vision, one of the many Tomorrowland attractions that is no more?)
Not so back in Disneyland. Was there anything like the Jungle Cruise before Walt imagined it? Pirates of the Caribbean? It's a Small World? Even Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln, or the Matterhorn? All of these came out of the Imagineers' imagination, not from plot lines already created for other synergistic properties.
Disneyland would never be created today. Not the same way. Not as the product of vision and values, rather than focus groups and committees watching their backs and corporate greed.
We had fun in both parks. But we had way more fun at Disneyland -- even though we were there in the rain. I talked too much about what Disneyland used to be like. (The Skyway. The horses on Main Street. Adventures in Inner Space. E-ticket rides. The Swiss Family Robinson treehouse.) But somehow my kids didn't seem to mind my reminiscing. In fact, today, Cory even asked me to sing the "Carousel of Progress" song one more time.
My kids don't even realize it. But they miss Walt Disney, too.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
THEY'RE BA-A-A-CK
Go to the ant, O sluggard,
Observe her ways and be wise,
Which, having no chief,
Officer or ruler,
Prepares her food in the summer,
And gathers her provision in the harvest. - Prov. 6:6-8
Southern California is once again in the throes of an unseasonable rainstorm. And, once again, after we thought we'd solved our ant problem.... here they come again, marching up from the ground to get out of the rain. This time they were attracted by Lee's badly-sealed bottle of loquat extract (a proven cold fighter, we are told).
Immediately I grabbed my bottle of odorless, colorless, scentless, biodegradable cleaning solution and started spraying. They fell by the hundreds.
But that wasn't the end of it. They came back. Several times. And this time, I took a few minutes to observe them. Just like Solomon. (Or like the young King Arthur, courtesy of T.H. White in The Once and Future King. Or like the Pixar guys in A Bug's Life.)
And while I don't want to anthropomorphize these banes of my life too much, it was interesting to watch them in the wake of a great natural disaster (i.e., me).
Out came the scout ants, looking for their lost brothers. And they could immediately tell something was wrong. They would arch their backs, even stand on their hind legs, waving their antennae around, trying to suss out the situation. They would run around in circles insanely (oh how human). And once in a while, an ant would somehow pick up a dead ant, and start lugging it back toward the entrance hole tucked away under the cabinet over the counter.
We've had a chance to see people reacting to natural disaster very close to home recently. And they're looking a bit like the ants. The hillside that collapsed just up the coast in La Conchita and killed 11 people -- well, when they opened the road that connects L.A. to Santa Barbara, there were miles of back-ups, just because people had to see what happened. Just like the ants, the people went back to the scene of the disaster. And even though the current rainstorm is likely to bring down the remainder of the hillside, people who live(d) there, no smarter than ants, have insisted on bucking the authorities to go back.
And, just like the ants, people put their own lives at risk to save their fellow creatures. Going back to the scene, diving into running mud, sometimes dying in the process.
And it made me think about how those natural instincts somehow get short-circuited when it comes to life in Hollywood. When a disaster happens to someone's career, we run. We don't want to be associated with a loser. We might say a kind word, send an e-mail or two, but we don't hang around. And we sure don't head right into the disaster zone to lend a hand and drag the dying bodies back to safety. Put our own career at risk to help a brother or sister?! Are you out of your mind?! Don't you know mudslides can be contagious?!
Seems to me the ants may be doing a bit better than we are, at times.
...Okay, enough philosophizing. I got me some killing to do. (How Hollywood of me.)
Observe her ways and be wise,
Which, having no chief,
Officer or ruler,
Prepares her food in the summer,
And gathers her provision in the harvest. - Prov. 6:6-8
Southern California is once again in the throes of an unseasonable rainstorm. And, once again, after we thought we'd solved our ant problem.... here they come again, marching up from the ground to get out of the rain. This time they were attracted by Lee's badly-sealed bottle of loquat extract (a proven cold fighter, we are told).
Immediately I grabbed my bottle of odorless, colorless, scentless, biodegradable cleaning solution and started spraying. They fell by the hundreds.
But that wasn't the end of it. They came back. Several times. And this time, I took a few minutes to observe them. Just like Solomon. (Or like the young King Arthur, courtesy of T.H. White in The Once and Future King. Or like the Pixar guys in A Bug's Life.)
And while I don't want to anthropomorphize these banes of my life too much, it was interesting to watch them in the wake of a great natural disaster (i.e., me).
Out came the scout ants, looking for their lost brothers. And they could immediately tell something was wrong. They would arch their backs, even stand on their hind legs, waving their antennae around, trying to suss out the situation. They would run around in circles insanely (oh how human). And once in a while, an ant would somehow pick up a dead ant, and start lugging it back toward the entrance hole tucked away under the cabinet over the counter.
We've had a chance to see people reacting to natural disaster very close to home recently. And they're looking a bit like the ants. The hillside that collapsed just up the coast in La Conchita and killed 11 people -- well, when they opened the road that connects L.A. to Santa Barbara, there were miles of back-ups, just because people had to see what happened. Just like the ants, the people went back to the scene of the disaster. And even though the current rainstorm is likely to bring down the remainder of the hillside, people who live(d) there, no smarter than ants, have insisted on bucking the authorities to go back.
And, just like the ants, people put their own lives at risk to save their fellow creatures. Going back to the scene, diving into running mud, sometimes dying in the process.
And it made me think about how those natural instincts somehow get short-circuited when it comes to life in Hollywood. When a disaster happens to someone's career, we run. We don't want to be associated with a loser. We might say a kind word, send an e-mail or two, but we don't hang around. And we sure don't head right into the disaster zone to lend a hand and drag the dying bodies back to safety. Put our own career at risk to help a brother or sister?! Are you out of your mind?! Don't you know mudslides can be contagious?!
Seems to me the ants may be doing a bit better than we are, at times.
...Okay, enough philosophizing. I got me some killing to do. (How Hollywood of me.)
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
CHRISTIAN-ROCK VS. CHRISTIANS WHO ROCK
Take a look at this terrific article in GQ online in which a non-Christian (who nonetheless confesses to a pretty hard-core "Jesus phase" in high school) goes to a Christian rock festival. A fascinating look at "us" from the point of view of, well, not "us."
While most of the article is the guy's personal journey (And I do have to say, he hung out with some pretty fringey types at this festival), I found his discourse on "Christian rock" interesting. Here's part of it:
...These were not Christian bands, you see; these were Christian-rock bands. The key to digging this scene lies in that one-syllable distinction. Christian rock is a genre that exists to edify and make money off of evangelical Christians. It's message music for listeners who know the message cold, and, what's more, it operates under a perceived responsibility -- one the artists embrace -- to "reach people." As such, it rewards both obviousness and maximum palatability (the artists would say clarity), which in turn means parasitism....
If you think it profoundly sucks, that's because your priorities are not its priorities; you want to hear something cool and new, it needs to play something proven to please... while praising Jesus Christ. That's Christian rock. A Christian band, on the other hand, is just a band that has more than one Christian in it. U2 is the examplar, held aloft by believers and nonbelievers alike, but there have been others through the years, bands about which people would say, "Did you know those guys were Christians? I know -- it's freaky. They're still f***'in' good, though." In most cases, bands like these make a very, very careful effort not be seen as playing "Christian rock."....
And here... is where the stickier problem of actually being any good comes in, because a question that must be asked is whether a hard-core Christian who turns 19 and finds he or she can write first-rate songs... would ever have anything whatsoever to do with Christian rock. Talent tends to come hand in hand with a certain base level of subtlety...
...It's possible -- and indeed seems likely -- that Christian rock is a musical genre, the only one I can think of, that has excellence-proofed itself."
To me, the most chilling concept here (even more so than the concept of Christians "excellence-proofing" themselves) is the idea that Christian music exists "to edify and make money off of evangelical Christians."
And it isn't just music, of course. It's movies, too. After The Passion of the Christ, seems everyone out there with a little cash wants to make a "Christian" movie (after all, look how much box office it dragged in!!). But where are the people who care about making excellent product, who care even a little bit about (dare I say it) art?
Maybe that's why the believing writers I know out here in Hollywood take such pains to say some version of, "I'm not a 'Christian writer,' I'm a writer who's a Christian."
Would that such hair-splitting were no longer necessary.....
While most of the article is the guy's personal journey (And I do have to say, he hung out with some pretty fringey types at this festival), I found his discourse on "Christian rock" interesting. Here's part of it:
...These were not Christian bands, you see; these were Christian-rock bands. The key to digging this scene lies in that one-syllable distinction. Christian rock is a genre that exists to edify and make money off of evangelical Christians. It's message music for listeners who know the message cold, and, what's more, it operates under a perceived responsibility -- one the artists embrace -- to "reach people." As such, it rewards both obviousness and maximum palatability (the artists would say clarity), which in turn means parasitism....
If you think it profoundly sucks, that's because your priorities are not its priorities; you want to hear something cool and new, it needs to play something proven to please... while praising Jesus Christ. That's Christian rock. A Christian band, on the other hand, is just a band that has more than one Christian in it. U2 is the examplar, held aloft by believers and nonbelievers alike, but there have been others through the years, bands about which people would say, "Did you know those guys were Christians? I know -- it's freaky. They're still f***'in' good, though." In most cases, bands like these make a very, very careful effort not be seen as playing "Christian rock."....
And here... is where the stickier problem of actually being any good comes in, because a question that must be asked is whether a hard-core Christian who turns 19 and finds he or she can write first-rate songs... would ever have anything whatsoever to do with Christian rock. Talent tends to come hand in hand with a certain base level of subtlety...
...It's possible -- and indeed seems likely -- that Christian rock is a musical genre, the only one I can think of, that has excellence-proofed itself."
To me, the most chilling concept here (even more so than the concept of Christians "excellence-proofing" themselves) is the idea that Christian music exists "to edify and make money off of evangelical Christians."
And it isn't just music, of course. It's movies, too. After The Passion of the Christ, seems everyone out there with a little cash wants to make a "Christian" movie (after all, look how much box office it dragged in!!). But where are the people who care about making excellent product, who care even a little bit about (dare I say it) art?
Maybe that's why the believing writers I know out here in Hollywood take such pains to say some version of, "I'm not a 'Christian writer,' I'm a writer who's a Christian."
Would that such hair-splitting were no longer necessary.....
Friday, February 11, 2005
EATING THE OSCARS
We are gearing up for our annual Oscar-viewing party this year, and I need your ideas.
Every year we invite a small group of friends over (small only because our living room just ain't that big), and we ask them to bring potluck to share. But they can't bring just anything.
The rules are, all food must reflect a nominated movie in some way. It can be food eaten in a movie. It can be food suggested by a movie's title or setting. It can be food "inspired" by a movie. And it can be any nominated movie, not just the big five.
Over the years, we have had some inspirational munchies indeed. We have had haggis for Braveheart,. Tang and freeze-dried ice cream for Apollo 13,. An overabundance of hot dogs and Bud Light for Jerry Maguire.
We have had the D-day invastion recreated out of meat loaf and mashed potatoes (with tiny plastic soldiers rushing over the whole thing) for Saving Private Ryan. We have drowned in chocolate for Chocolat. Apples for Good Will Hunting ("You like apples?" "Sure." "I got her phone number. How'd ya like *them* apples?"). Doughnuts for "Lard" of the Rings.
We have drunk grasshoppers for A Bug's Life. Ice water for Titanic. "Hurricanes" (some rum thing, courtesy of a bartender's guide) for The Hurricane.
And my favorite: The friend who brought an all-veggie salad with the word "Sense" spelled out in carrots on top... paired with an ice cream cake with the word "Sensibility" spelled out in hot fudge.
So help us! What can we serve this year? (We already know we'll be getting milk in bottles for The Aviator, pinot noir for Sideways... and if worse comes to worse and no one's bringing anything, we'll rush out to McDonald's for SuperSize Me.)
Here are the nominated movies (docus, foreign films and shorts are eligible, but I'm not bothering to list them). Send me your brilliant ideas!
The Aviator
Before Sunset
Being Julia
Les Choristes
Closer
Collateral
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Finding Neverland
Harry Potter and the Prizoner of Azkaban
Hotel Rwanda
House of Flying Daggers
I, Robot
The Incredibles
Kinsey
Maria Full of Grace
Million Dollar Baby
The Motorcycle Diaries
The Passion of the Christ
The Phantom of the Opera
The Polar Express
Ray
The Sea Inside
A Series of Unfortunate Events
Shark Tale
Shrek II
Sideways
Spider-Man 2
Troy
Vera Drake
A Very Long Engagement
The Village
Every year we invite a small group of friends over (small only because our living room just ain't that big), and we ask them to bring potluck to share. But they can't bring just anything.
The rules are, all food must reflect a nominated movie in some way. It can be food eaten in a movie. It can be food suggested by a movie's title or setting. It can be food "inspired" by a movie. And it can be any nominated movie, not just the big five.
Over the years, we have had some inspirational munchies indeed. We have had haggis for Braveheart,. Tang and freeze-dried ice cream for Apollo 13,. An overabundance of hot dogs and Bud Light for Jerry Maguire.
We have had the D-day invastion recreated out of meat loaf and mashed potatoes (with tiny plastic soldiers rushing over the whole thing) for Saving Private Ryan. We have drowned in chocolate for Chocolat. Apples for Good Will Hunting ("You like apples?" "Sure." "I got her phone number. How'd ya like *them* apples?"). Doughnuts for "Lard" of the Rings.
We have drunk grasshoppers for A Bug's Life. Ice water for Titanic. "Hurricanes" (some rum thing, courtesy of a bartender's guide) for The Hurricane.
And my favorite: The friend who brought an all-veggie salad with the word "Sense" spelled out in carrots on top... paired with an ice cream cake with the word "Sensibility" spelled out in hot fudge.
So help us! What can we serve this year? (We already know we'll be getting milk in bottles for The Aviator, pinot noir for Sideways... and if worse comes to worse and no one's bringing anything, we'll rush out to McDonald's for SuperSize Me.)
Here are the nominated movies (docus, foreign films and shorts are eligible, but I'm not bothering to list them). Send me your brilliant ideas!
The Aviator
Before Sunset
Being Julia
Les Choristes
Closer
Collateral
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Finding Neverland
Harry Potter and the Prizoner of Azkaban
Hotel Rwanda
House of Flying Daggers
I, Robot
The Incredibles
Kinsey
Maria Full of Grace
Million Dollar Baby
The Motorcycle Diaries
The Passion of the Christ
The Phantom of the Opera
The Polar Express
Ray
The Sea Inside
A Series of Unfortunate Events
Shark Tale
Shrek II
Sideways
Spider-Man 2
Troy
Vera Drake
A Very Long Engagement
The Village
Thursday, February 10, 2005
HE CALLS THEM ALL BY NAME
The other day I was singing a song with the line He set the stars in the sky / And He calls them by name." And somehow, through the rather convoluted paths of my brain, it reminded me of a passage from A Wind in the Door, a book by Madeleine L'Engle that I probably haven't read in over 10 years.
Our heroine, Meg, is joined by a creature whose last assignment was to memorize all the names of all the stars. As he puts it, "If he calls for one of them, someone has to know which one he means. Anyhow, they like it; there aren't many who know them all by name, and if your name isn't known, then it's a very lonely feeling."
Later, Meg follows up on this concept to ask some questions:
"Meg asked, "You memorized the names of all the stars -- how many are there?"
"How many? Great heavens, earthling. I haven't the faintest idea."
"But you said your last assignment was the memorize the names of all of them."
"I did. All the stars in all the galaxies. And that's a great many."
"But how many?"
"What difference does it make? I know their names. I don't know how many there are. It's their names that matter."
This passage made me think of, oddly enough, my biggest problem as a Brownie leader: Recognizing the girls. Now, I've been a Brownie leader with this troop for a year and a half, so you wouldn't think it'd be a problem. But I seem to be missing the gene that allows one to recognize faces. I have a horrible time recognizing people I don't know well. True confession here: When my kids were babies, sometimes I had to recognize them (say, in the church nursery) by what they were wearing.
But these little Brownies are all wearing the same thing! No help there! And let me tell you, Erina looks an awful lot like Yu-Shien, and Kate looks an awful lot like Mary, and Izzy looks an awful lot like Haley, and I can tell Jenny and Caitlin apart if they're standing next to each other, but if they're not together, I might have problems.
Now, I can count them with no problem. There's supposed to be 23, and if we're on a field trip, I can slap out a head count faster than any of the other moms. But knowing the number isn't good enough.
It's actually rather embarrassing when I get a name wrong. But while I'm embarrassed, the girls are hurt. You can see it in their eyes. How could Mrs. Batchler not know their name when she's been their leader for so long?!
We are so number-oriented in our culture today. The weekly box office determines whether a movie is considered to be any good. We judge people based on their salaries, the value of their homes or cars or jewelry. We go to weddings and count the house. Even at our church, the bulletin every week contains the number of people who attended the previous Sunday's service and the increase over the same weekend the previous year. And the numbers do keep going up, I have to say.
I like numbers. I like statistics. That kind of information makes me feel like I have a handle on my world. But it's not good enough, and I have to make myself remember that.
None of it matters if we don't know each other's names.
He calls them all by name. (Isa. 40:26)
Our heroine, Meg, is joined by a creature whose last assignment was to memorize all the names of all the stars. As he puts it, "If he calls for one of them, someone has to know which one he means. Anyhow, they like it; there aren't many who know them all by name, and if your name isn't known, then it's a very lonely feeling."
Later, Meg follows up on this concept to ask some questions:
"Meg asked, "You memorized the names of all the stars -- how many are there?"
"How many? Great heavens, earthling. I haven't the faintest idea."
"But you said your last assignment was the memorize the names of all of them."
"I did. All the stars in all the galaxies. And that's a great many."
"But how many?"
"What difference does it make? I know their names. I don't know how many there are. It's their names that matter."
This passage made me think of, oddly enough, my biggest problem as a Brownie leader: Recognizing the girls. Now, I've been a Brownie leader with this troop for a year and a half, so you wouldn't think it'd be a problem. But I seem to be missing the gene that allows one to recognize faces. I have a horrible time recognizing people I don't know well. True confession here: When my kids were babies, sometimes I had to recognize them (say, in the church nursery) by what they were wearing.
But these little Brownies are all wearing the same thing! No help there! And let me tell you, Erina looks an awful lot like Yu-Shien, and Kate looks an awful lot like Mary, and Izzy looks an awful lot like Haley, and I can tell Jenny and Caitlin apart if they're standing next to each other, but if they're not together, I might have problems.
Now, I can count them with no problem. There's supposed to be 23, and if we're on a field trip, I can slap out a head count faster than any of the other moms. But knowing the number isn't good enough.
It's actually rather embarrassing when I get a name wrong. But while I'm embarrassed, the girls are hurt. You can see it in their eyes. How could Mrs. Batchler not know their name when she's been their leader for so long?!
We are so number-oriented in our culture today. The weekly box office determines whether a movie is considered to be any good. We judge people based on their salaries, the value of their homes or cars or jewelry. We go to weddings and count the house. Even at our church, the bulletin every week contains the number of people who attended the previous Sunday's service and the increase over the same weekend the previous year. And the numbers do keep going up, I have to say.
I like numbers. I like statistics. That kind of information makes me feel like I have a handle on my world. But it's not good enough, and I have to make myself remember that.
None of it matters if we don't know each other's names.
He calls them all by name. (Isa. 40:26)
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
IT'S NOT ABOUT ME
Because I didn't grow up with a tradition of Ash Wednesday, or Lent, or even Easter for that matter, the concept of giving something up for Lent is still fairly fresh for me. So I don't automatically fall into the habit of giving up alcohol or meat or something more traditional like that.
Of course, on a yearly basis, the concept of giving up some kind of food (chocolate... fast food...) is appealing on Lent. But I've come to realize that secretly I'm hoping to use Lent as a sort of celestially approved diet -- and that's not the point, is it?
So each year I mull over the possibilities.... Should I give up complaining? Should I give up yelling at my kids? Should I give up playing Alchemy online? (Last year I gave up Tetris for Lent.) Somehow in comparison, the thought of giving up chocolate seems easy.
(My favorite sacrifice for Lent was actually Sabrina's, when she announced a few years ago that she was giving up "sneaking candy" for Lent.... Oh reeeeeally!??)
This year I thought of giving up worrying. If my prayers aren't answered quite specifically during Lent, I will have a lot in front of me that could cause worry. But frankly, I didn't think I could handle it.
And then a thought started nagging at me, a thought that I certainly never would have come up with on my own. What if I gave up talking about myself?
The thought wouldn't go away. So that's what I'm doing. I'm giving up talking about myself for Lent.
That doesn't mean I'll stop blogging. It doesn't mean I won't answer questions that people ask me. But it does mean that I'll stop introducing my stories, my opinions, my anecdotes into conversations. I'll stop bringing myself up as a topic of conversation.
Just last night, as Cory was joking over dinner that he wanted to start a food fight, and I told him the story of the most massive food fight I ever witnessed (midnight breakfast in the dorms, got out of hand, I was working for the food service and had to stay up to 5:00 a.m. to clean it up -- yuck)... I realized that was probably the last self-generated story I'd be telling for 40 days.
It's going to be tough. Oh, my poor little ego.
Check back with me in 40 days.
Of course, on a yearly basis, the concept of giving up some kind of food (chocolate... fast food...) is appealing on Lent. But I've come to realize that secretly I'm hoping to use Lent as a sort of celestially approved diet -- and that's not the point, is it?
So each year I mull over the possibilities.... Should I give up complaining? Should I give up yelling at my kids? Should I give up playing Alchemy online? (Last year I gave up Tetris for Lent.) Somehow in comparison, the thought of giving up chocolate seems easy.
(My favorite sacrifice for Lent was actually Sabrina's, when she announced a few years ago that she was giving up "sneaking candy" for Lent.... Oh reeeeeally!??)
This year I thought of giving up worrying. If my prayers aren't answered quite specifically during Lent, I will have a lot in front of me that could cause worry. But frankly, I didn't think I could handle it.
And then a thought started nagging at me, a thought that I certainly never would have come up with on my own. What if I gave up talking about myself?
The thought wouldn't go away. So that's what I'm doing. I'm giving up talking about myself for Lent.
That doesn't mean I'll stop blogging. It doesn't mean I won't answer questions that people ask me. But it does mean that I'll stop introducing my stories, my opinions, my anecdotes into conversations. I'll stop bringing myself up as a topic of conversation.
Just last night, as Cory was joking over dinner that he wanted to start a food fight, and I told him the story of the most massive food fight I ever witnessed (midnight breakfast in the dorms, got out of hand, I was working for the food service and had to stay up to 5:00 a.m. to clean it up -- yuck)... I realized that was probably the last self-generated story I'd be telling for 40 days.
It's going to be tough. Oh, my poor little ego.
Check back with me in 40 days.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
MOVIE THOUGHTS: SIDEWAYS
My expectations were not high for Sideways, as evidenced by how late in the season I left it on my to-see list. Between Barbara Nicolosi's excorations of the film on her blog, Burt Prelutsky's scornful column about it, and my subsequent distrust of all these critics falling all over themselves over it, I just didn't have high hopes.
But I was pleasantly surprised. I still don't agree with many of the critics who have anointed this film something like cinema's next best hope, and I certainly don't agree with the Best Picture Oscar nod. But I enjoyed the film.
Sideways follows two middle-aged guys on a week's trip through central California wine country during the week before one of them, underemployed-but-still-working actor Jack (played with chilling effectiveness by Thomas Haden Church) gets married. Miles, Jack's buddy (played heartbreakingly by Paul Giamatti), is hiding from the failures in his life -- failed marriage, failed finances, failed as a writer -- by drowning himself in an overknowledge about wine. Jack just wants to get laid one last time (okay, several last times) before getting married.
This is one of those movies where not much "happens." Jack picks up on a girl and they have a wild fling, during which he makes promises he never intends to keep. Miles slowly steels himself up to wooing a girl he's been attracted to for years during his wine-tasting trips. The guys fight over what they're doing, they play golf, they get drunk.
Through it all, Miles's life, bleak as it already is, keeps falling apart. His last chance at getting his 700+ page book published falls through. The girl he likes, learning of Jack's deception, dumps him. Jack smashes up Miles's car (on purpose). Miles learns that his ex-wife, for whom he still carries a torch, has remarried. And at the end of the week, they come home in time for Jack's wedding -- where Miles learns that his ex-wife is pregnant.
Clearly a very small movie. So why the Best Picture nod? And is it deserved? My answer to the second question is emphatically no. For me, Best Picture means a movie that is great on all levels -- not just the writing and acting (where Sideways excels), but in the "craft" areas of design, cinematography, sound, editing, etc. And in these areas, Sideways rarely rises above mediocre, and frequently dips below it. So no: It should not have gotten the nomination.
What about the writing nomination? Here, I have to say, the nomination is deserved. The writing is crisp and revelatory. Yes, the characters fling the f-word around with abandon. And yes, they could probably have cut 3 or 4 dozen of those instances. But that's the way some people do talk -- and from these characters, I believed it.
One nomination was missing: Paul Giamatti's performance as Miles is absolutely breathtaking. He takes a schlub of a guy, someone we wouldn't notice twice, and lets us into levels of pain and denial that actors rarely reach. Miles is ambivalent about so much (a hard thing to play) -- and we get to see, understand, and feel every single level. An astounding performance. I haven't seen Million Dollar Baby, but I sort of suspect Clint got Paul's nomination. And it's a shame. Work this good should be noticed.
As to the morality of the film, since it's been discussed at length elsewhere. I actually found it quite a moral movie. These guys are sinning up the wazoo -- but they know it. And there are consequences for their sin, everywhere they look. (Some quite unintended consequences at times.) Miles spends the entire movie fighting to keep from realizing what he knows to be true, running from it (by getting drunk as well as good old-fashioned denial), and yet does come to face the truth and even, in the last moments of the movie, acknowledge it as true and move forward based on truth, not denial. And, in the process, he lets us feel the pain of sin very deeply. Not bad for a movie about drinking wine.
The last question for this movie I can't answer: Why did the critics go so ga-ga over it? That I can't tell. It feels more to me like the kind of movies writers love, actors love, but no one else ever cares about. All I can guess is that the critics all saw it right after seeing the bloatedness of The Aviator, and that somehow the marketing campaign (to the critics) allowed them to feel as if they were "discovering" the movie. They clearly overreacted. And some of them didn't even get it -- calling it a comedy when it's really a heartbreaking story of loss and failure. But that doesn't make it a bad movie.
My predictions: Sideways will win Best Adapted Screenplay. A tip of the hat to a movie a lot of people liked, but which doesn't stand a chance for Best Picture or Best Director. (Here's my question: How can you really judge Best Adapted Screenplay when you haven't read the source material? Maybe the book author was the one with the really clever ideas, and all the screenwriter did was transcribe. Probably not, but how do you know? Okay, topic for another discussion.) And nothing else.
If you have problems with obscenity, profanity, on-screen simulated sex, or on-screen male nudity, don't go to this movie. If you like wine and/or small talky films (or if you make the drive from L.A. up the coast frequently as we do, and will recognize all the locations), go. Otherwise, well... wait for the DVD.
But I was pleasantly surprised. I still don't agree with many of the critics who have anointed this film something like cinema's next best hope, and I certainly don't agree with the Best Picture Oscar nod. But I enjoyed the film.
Sideways follows two middle-aged guys on a week's trip through central California wine country during the week before one of them, underemployed-but-still-working actor Jack (played with chilling effectiveness by Thomas Haden Church) gets married. Miles, Jack's buddy (played heartbreakingly by Paul Giamatti), is hiding from the failures in his life -- failed marriage, failed finances, failed as a writer -- by drowning himself in an overknowledge about wine. Jack just wants to get laid one last time (okay, several last times) before getting married.
This is one of those movies where not much "happens." Jack picks up on a girl and they have a wild fling, during which he makes promises he never intends to keep. Miles slowly steels himself up to wooing a girl he's been attracted to for years during his wine-tasting trips. The guys fight over what they're doing, they play golf, they get drunk.
Through it all, Miles's life, bleak as it already is, keeps falling apart. His last chance at getting his 700+ page book published falls through. The girl he likes, learning of Jack's deception, dumps him. Jack smashes up Miles's car (on purpose). Miles learns that his ex-wife, for whom he still carries a torch, has remarried. And at the end of the week, they come home in time for Jack's wedding -- where Miles learns that his ex-wife is pregnant.
Clearly a very small movie. So why the Best Picture nod? And is it deserved? My answer to the second question is emphatically no. For me, Best Picture means a movie that is great on all levels -- not just the writing and acting (where Sideways excels), but in the "craft" areas of design, cinematography, sound, editing, etc. And in these areas, Sideways rarely rises above mediocre, and frequently dips below it. So no: It should not have gotten the nomination.
What about the writing nomination? Here, I have to say, the nomination is deserved. The writing is crisp and revelatory. Yes, the characters fling the f-word around with abandon. And yes, they could probably have cut 3 or 4 dozen of those instances. But that's the way some people do talk -- and from these characters, I believed it.
One nomination was missing: Paul Giamatti's performance as Miles is absolutely breathtaking. He takes a schlub of a guy, someone we wouldn't notice twice, and lets us into levels of pain and denial that actors rarely reach. Miles is ambivalent about so much (a hard thing to play) -- and we get to see, understand, and feel every single level. An astounding performance. I haven't seen Million Dollar Baby, but I sort of suspect Clint got Paul's nomination. And it's a shame. Work this good should be noticed.
As to the morality of the film, since it's been discussed at length elsewhere. I actually found it quite a moral movie. These guys are sinning up the wazoo -- but they know it. And there are consequences for their sin, everywhere they look. (Some quite unintended consequences at times.) Miles spends the entire movie fighting to keep from realizing what he knows to be true, running from it (by getting drunk as well as good old-fashioned denial), and yet does come to face the truth and even, in the last moments of the movie, acknowledge it as true and move forward based on truth, not denial. And, in the process, he lets us feel the pain of sin very deeply. Not bad for a movie about drinking wine.
The last question for this movie I can't answer: Why did the critics go so ga-ga over it? That I can't tell. It feels more to me like the kind of movies writers love, actors love, but no one else ever cares about. All I can guess is that the critics all saw it right after seeing the bloatedness of The Aviator, and that somehow the marketing campaign (to the critics) allowed them to feel as if they were "discovering" the movie. They clearly overreacted. And some of them didn't even get it -- calling it a comedy when it's really a heartbreaking story of loss and failure. But that doesn't make it a bad movie.
My predictions: Sideways will win Best Adapted Screenplay. A tip of the hat to a movie a lot of people liked, but which doesn't stand a chance for Best Picture or Best Director. (Here's my question: How can you really judge Best Adapted Screenplay when you haven't read the source material? Maybe the book author was the one with the really clever ideas, and all the screenwriter did was transcribe. Probably not, but how do you know? Okay, topic for another discussion.) And nothing else.
If you have problems with obscenity, profanity, on-screen simulated sex, or on-screen male nudity, don't go to this movie. If you like wine and/or small talky films (or if you make the drive from L.A. up the coast frequently as we do, and will recognize all the locations), go. Otherwise, well... wait for the DVD.
Monday, February 07, 2005
FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH....
Twelve years ago, my mother sent me a copy of my birthday horoscope. I may even have it shoved into some drawer or book somewhere. It said something along the lines of, "All your creative work is about to come to fruition and your life is about to change, throwing you into rooms you never thought you'd get into, and you get to share it with the one you love." Something like that.
And one week later, Lee and I sold "Smoke and Mirrors," the script that put us on the Hollywood map and launched our careers. (Hence the saving of the horoscope.)
Now let me be on the record that I don't go in for any kind of New Age stuff (Lee always insists it should be pronounced to rhyme with "sewage"). I don't know the "signs" of my own kids. I don't even trust my Chinese food fortune cookies (unless I like the fortune, of course).
But just for the heck of it, every year since "Smoke and Mirrors," I've checked out my birthday horoscope. The most recent being this weekend. And here's what it read:
The glimpse of good fortune you get in the next three weeks is only a preview of all that is to come this year. It's such an abundance, you'll probably feel guilty about accepting it. Don't! You can do good in the world by graciously receiving gifts and developing a solid plan before using them. Sagittarius and Scorpio are romantic allies."
Let me just say, for the record, that Lee, my "romantic ally" is on the cusp between Sagittarius and Scorpio (had to look that up). And, for the record, many people feel the Magi were in fact astrologers.
So there it is, for what it's worth. At least let me enjoy some wishful thinking for three weeks. I'll check back with y'all then.
And one week later, Lee and I sold "Smoke and Mirrors," the script that put us on the Hollywood map and launched our careers. (Hence the saving of the horoscope.)
Now let me be on the record that I don't go in for any kind of New Age stuff (Lee always insists it should be pronounced to rhyme with "sewage"). I don't know the "signs" of my own kids. I don't even trust my Chinese food fortune cookies (unless I like the fortune, of course).
But just for the heck of it, every year since "Smoke and Mirrors," I've checked out my birthday horoscope. The most recent being this weekend. And here's what it read:
The glimpse of good fortune you get in the next three weeks is only a preview of all that is to come this year. It's such an abundance, you'll probably feel guilty about accepting it. Don't! You can do good in the world by graciously receiving gifts and developing a solid plan before using them. Sagittarius and Scorpio are romantic allies."
Let me just say, for the record, that Lee, my "romantic ally" is on the cusp between Sagittarius and Scorpio (had to look that up). And, for the record, many people feel the Magi were in fact astrologers.
So there it is, for what it's worth. At least let me enjoy some wishful thinking for three weeks. I'll check back with y'all then.
Friday, February 04, 2005
A LACK OF HOLINESS
Our cable company is Adelphia. I was very pleased, a few years back, when Adelphia dropped the soft-core porn Spice Channel (over many consumer complaints) because of the Christian convictions of the founder and CEO, John Rigas.
But then it turned out John Rigas, despite his strong stand for holiness in this area, had some other problems. He's now in prison, having been convicted on charges of embezzlement and fraud.
And just yesterday, what did I read in the L.A. Times? Turns out that Adelphia is now going to be the first major cable channel to offer hard-core porn. Pay-per-view, but still.
If Rigas was still in charge of the company he founded, would this have happened? I strongly doubt it. But his strong stand for holiness was completely negated by actions in what would seem to be a totally unrelated area. Millions of people will have access to hard-core porn, piped right into their homes, thanks to his fall from holiness.
What we do has consequences. We can't see the consequences. But they're there.
I can't make great claims to holiness myself. I have areas where I struggle mightily, and areas where things just aren't tough for me. But woe to me if I focus on the areas where I seem to be doing all right, pat myself on the back, and let everything else go.
Who knows what the consequences could be? I wonder, is Rigas in his prison cell feeling the pain of realizing that, due to his fault, what he absolutely never wanted to happen is now happening?
Especially as we approach Lent, we need to be aware. My sin that seems so negligible to me can reverberate through the years. And how do I know which sin will have what effect?
I guess I'd better look into switching to satellite TV.
"Things that cause people to sin are bound to come, but woe to that person through whom they come. It would be better for him to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied aroundhis neck than for him to cause one of these little ones to sin. So watch yourselves." (Lk. 17:1-3)
But then it turned out John Rigas, despite his strong stand for holiness in this area, had some other problems. He's now in prison, having been convicted on charges of embezzlement and fraud.
And just yesterday, what did I read in the L.A. Times? Turns out that Adelphia is now going to be the first major cable channel to offer hard-core porn. Pay-per-view, but still.
If Rigas was still in charge of the company he founded, would this have happened? I strongly doubt it. But his strong stand for holiness was completely negated by actions in what would seem to be a totally unrelated area. Millions of people will have access to hard-core porn, piped right into their homes, thanks to his fall from holiness.
What we do has consequences. We can't see the consequences. But they're there.
I can't make great claims to holiness myself. I have areas where I struggle mightily, and areas where things just aren't tough for me. But woe to me if I focus on the areas where I seem to be doing all right, pat myself on the back, and let everything else go.
Who knows what the consequences could be? I wonder, is Rigas in his prison cell feeling the pain of realizing that, due to his fault, what he absolutely never wanted to happen is now happening?
Especially as we approach Lent, we need to be aware. My sin that seems so negligible to me can reverberate through the years. And how do I know which sin will have what effect?
I guess I'd better look into switching to satellite TV.
"Things that cause people to sin are bound to come, but woe to that person through whom they come. It would be better for him to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied aroundhis neck than for him to cause one of these little ones to sin. So watch yourselves." (Lk. 17:1-3)
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
LARRY KING INTERVIEWS GOD
Back in college, I was a fervent subscriber to "The Wittenburg Door," the Christian humor/satire magazine. Back then, it was funny, provocative, and spiritually challenging. I can absolutely say that some of Mike Yaconelli's "Back Door" columns changed my life.
I kept my subscription up for a few years even when it stopped being so funny or relevant. But when Mike Yaconelli stopped writing his columns, I let it go.
Well, maybe they're back. Check out this "transcript" of Larry King's interview with God (what a get!) about the December tsunami. Enjoy!
I kept my subscription up for a few years even when it stopped being so funny or relevant. But when Mike Yaconelli stopped writing his columns, I let it go.
Well, maybe they're back. Check out this "transcript" of Larry King's interview with God (what a get!) about the December tsunami. Enjoy!
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