Last week I wrote a post about the ending of Inception. Is it a perception that exists only in Dom's (Leonardo DiCaprio) mind, or does he really get back to his family? My conclusion was that he gets back to his family, although I admit the evidence is shaky either way. This week, I want to add a little footnote that was just enough out of place to be unfit for the post last week.
With the question about whether Dom is caught in limbo or not comes another question: Does it matter to him? In other words, does it matter whether his happy ending is real, or is it sufficient that he thinks it is real? The answer is: Of course it matters, stupid! Reality is always better than an illusion - Dom says so himself to his projection of his wife Mal (Marion Cottilard). She is only a figment of his imagination, and he rejects her because she is not his real wife. She is, in effect, a simplification of the real Mal, and nothing less than the real Mal will satisfy him.
The same principle applies to reality. A good illustration is The Matrix. Neo (Keanu Reeves) is convinced that he lives in the real world. He goes about his business, and is reasonably happy. But he knows there's something more. Soon he finds out that his brain has been hooked up to a machine, and, as he says, none of his memories really happened. It takes him a while to adjust to this idea, but he never questions that reality is better than the illusion he had been living.
So is a false happy ending better than a real tragic ending? No. It is better to know the reality than to live under an illusion. Sooner or later reality will come and hit you over the head, sometimes with unpleasant consequences. Besides, reality goes hand in hand with truth, and Truth is God. So it is always better to know the reality (at least of the things that really matter) than to be deceived, even by yourself.
The cleverness of Christopher Nolan is revealed in the way he handled the final scene of Inception. It evokes all sorts of questions, including the question of whether or not a happy ending that exists only in a character's mind is really a happy ending. But the ultimate irony is that the ending itself arguably exists only in the viewers' minds. Since none of us can really know how the movie ends, we can all draw our own conclusions. So Nolan took the idea of an ending that is perceived (perhaps wrongly) by a character and projected that onto the viewers. That is clever writing.
Showing posts with label *spoiler reflections*. Show all posts
Showing posts with label *spoiler reflections*. Show all posts
Friday, November 18, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
*Spoiler Reflections* On the Ending of Inception
As I said in my review of Inception, the movie's ending is difficult to understand. It's rather like an abstract painting; any person's interpretation of the meaning is as valid as the next one's. (Oh, it's a bird. No, it's a plane. No, it's a big fluffy cloud with a man-eating lion on top.) In a nutshell, the main character, Dom (Leonardo DiCaprio), appears to escape from a dream state called limbo and make his way back to his children. But the viewer isn't sure whether Dom really makes it back. It's possible that he's still in a dream - that he has, in a sense, created a happy ending for himself. I've had a chance to watch the movie again, and I have some ideas about the ending.
The first things to consider in the dream/reality question are the elements that support the dream argument. These are most of the elements in the final scenes. Dom is met at an American airport by his father, who was in Paris the last time Dom saw him. Then Dom meets his children in his old home. The children are conspicuously the same age as the last time he saw them. Also, if I recall correctly, they are wearing the same clothes. These elements suggest that Dom is, indeed, in a dream built from his memories.
However, the last element in the final scenes does not suggest that Dom is in a dream. He spins the top on a table to see if he is in a dream, but he's distracted before he can see whether the top will fall over or not. The camera focuses in on the top as it spins, and it appears to wobble slightly (more in the sound than in the sight) before the picture cuts to the credits. This would indicate that Dom is in reality.
There is another piece of evidence that I think hints at his being in reality. Dom's employer, Saito (Ken Watanabe), coaxes him into taking on the last, difficult job by asking him if he wants to become "an old man, filled with regret, waiting to die alone." The word "regret" pops up later in the film, too, when Dom talks about the moments of his life that he regrets. Both times the word is bound up with the consequences of his choice to plant an idea in his wife's mind - an idea that caused her to commit suicide and separated him from his children. So, clearly, Dom's character is bound up in his regrets. But the song that is used by Dom and his crew to warn them of the impending end of a dream is entitled Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien. Loosely translated into English, it means "No, I have no regrets." This strongly suggests that Dom is in reality.
So does Dom get back to his children or is he trapped in limbo? It seems to me that the former is the more likely answer. Why else would Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien be used so often throughout the movie? And why else would the top begin to wobble just before the credits start? These elements seem harder to explain away than the question marks raised by the other elements I mentioned. Although, I could easily be wrong; Christopher Nolan obviously intended the viewer to remain in the dark.
The first things to consider in the dream/reality question are the elements that support the dream argument. These are most of the elements in the final scenes. Dom is met at an American airport by his father, who was in Paris the last time Dom saw him. Then Dom meets his children in his old home. The children are conspicuously the same age as the last time he saw them. Also, if I recall correctly, they are wearing the same clothes. These elements suggest that Dom is, indeed, in a dream built from his memories.
However, the last element in the final scenes does not suggest that Dom is in a dream. He spins the top on a table to see if he is in a dream, but he's distracted before he can see whether the top will fall over or not. The camera focuses in on the top as it spins, and it appears to wobble slightly (more in the sound than in the sight) before the picture cuts to the credits. This would indicate that Dom is in reality.
There is another piece of evidence that I think hints at his being in reality. Dom's employer, Saito (Ken Watanabe), coaxes him into taking on the last, difficult job by asking him if he wants to become "an old man, filled with regret, waiting to die alone." The word "regret" pops up later in the film, too, when Dom talks about the moments of his life that he regrets. Both times the word is bound up with the consequences of his choice to plant an idea in his wife's mind - an idea that caused her to commit suicide and separated him from his children. So, clearly, Dom's character is bound up in his regrets. But the song that is used by Dom and his crew to warn them of the impending end of a dream is entitled Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien. Loosely translated into English, it means "No, I have no regrets." This strongly suggests that Dom is in reality.
So does Dom get back to his children or is he trapped in limbo? It seems to me that the former is the more likely answer. Why else would Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien be used so often throughout the movie? And why else would the top begin to wobble just before the credits start? These elements seem harder to explain away than the question marks raised by the other elements I mentioned. Although, I could easily be wrong; Christopher Nolan obviously intended the viewer to remain in the dark.
Friday, October 28, 2011
*Spoiler Reflections* On Indecent Women in First Class
Indecency reigns in Hollywood - but then, everybody knows that already. I don't have to tell any of you about the sexual content that seems required in any movie rated at least PG-13. (And, tragically, some rated PG.) Most of this behavior seems applauded or, at the very least, tolerated. X-Men: First Class, though, has a rather odd stance on its sexual content.
There are three female characters who bring indecency to the movie: Angel (Zoë Kravitz), Emma Frost (January Jones) and Raven (Jennifer Lawrence). Angel is a stripper when Charles (James McAvoy) and Erik (Michael Fassbender) first find her. In her defense, she seems to have been on her own for nearly her whole life (perhaps grew up on the streets?), and she takes up Charles on his offer of a job where she can keep her clothes on. However, she later says she'd rather have men stare at her with her clothes off than because she's a mutant. Then she evidently becomes Sebastion Shaw's (Kevin Bacon) mistress.
Emma Frost begins the movie as Shaw's mistress. She nearly always has some large piece of clothing missing - whether she's in a bikini, an extremely short skirt, or a shirt with an almost unbelievably low neck. At one point, she strips down to her underwear for a Russian general and then uses her telepathic abilities to make him think she's on his lap.
Raven is less promiscuous than the others, but she still has her problems. Her clothing is immodest, though not as much as Emma's. Near the end, she tries to seduce Erik by waiting for him in his bed, sans her clothing. To his credit, he seems uninterested, though it seems he just thinks she's annoyingly immature. Also, it's not clear whether their kiss at the end of the scene leads to anything more or not. Either way, Raven acts like a little idiot.
This isn't to say that the good characters in First Class are perfect. CIA agent Moira MacTaggert (Rose Byrne) infiltrates a hotbed of communists by boldly walking into the building in only her underwear - it's a Las Vegas club and she blends in with the strippers. Charles hits on a young lady at a bar with the aid of his telepathic powers. She asks him how his seduction technique is working out, and he tells her that he will let her know in the morning. Where this would have ended up is a mystery, because Raven gets Charles to leave soon after.
Now to get to my point: Angel, Emma, and Raven all end up fighting for the bad guys. Angel and Emma work for Shaw and then switch allegiance to Erik/Magneto after Shaw's death, and Raven sides with Magneto. (In First Class, Raven seems to choose Erik because she's in love with him. By the original trilogy, she has definitely developed an evil character.) All three indecent women side with evil.
So does First Class intentionally portray indecency as evil? The answer is no. Some of the indecent actions are portrayed neutrally, if not exactly positively. For example, when Angel is a stripper, the general impression the movie gives is that she's in a bad situation, but not necessarily a bad person. This could be partly true, but not enough emphasis is placed on just how bad her actions were. Raven's attempted seduction of Erik is shown as a result of her search for a person she can truly belong with, not necessarily as the first step in the wrong direction. So indecency is shown more neutrally than I would like.
Another question could be asked. Does First Class portray indecent women as evil and/or misguided? The answer is yes. The most immodest, sexually immoral women in the movie all end up as bad characters. That's a bit of an odd take on indecency: Indecent actions are not necessarily wrong, but indecent women are bad. But, odd or not, for a big, popular movie, that's definitely a step in the right direction for Hollywood.
There are three female characters who bring indecency to the movie: Angel (Zoë Kravitz), Emma Frost (January Jones) and Raven (Jennifer Lawrence). Angel is a stripper when Charles (James McAvoy) and Erik (Michael Fassbender) first find her. In her defense, she seems to have been on her own for nearly her whole life (perhaps grew up on the streets?), and she takes up Charles on his offer of a job where she can keep her clothes on. However, she later says she'd rather have men stare at her with her clothes off than because she's a mutant. Then she evidently becomes Sebastion Shaw's (Kevin Bacon) mistress.
Emma Frost begins the movie as Shaw's mistress. She nearly always has some large piece of clothing missing - whether she's in a bikini, an extremely short skirt, or a shirt with an almost unbelievably low neck. At one point, she strips down to her underwear for a Russian general and then uses her telepathic abilities to make him think she's on his lap.
Raven is less promiscuous than the others, but she still has her problems. Her clothing is immodest, though not as much as Emma's. Near the end, she tries to seduce Erik by waiting for him in his bed, sans her clothing. To his credit, he seems uninterested, though it seems he just thinks she's annoyingly immature. Also, it's not clear whether their kiss at the end of the scene leads to anything more or not. Either way, Raven acts like a little idiot.
This isn't to say that the good characters in First Class are perfect. CIA agent Moira MacTaggert (Rose Byrne) infiltrates a hotbed of communists by boldly walking into the building in only her underwear - it's a Las Vegas club and she blends in with the strippers. Charles hits on a young lady at a bar with the aid of his telepathic powers. She asks him how his seduction technique is working out, and he tells her that he will let her know in the morning. Where this would have ended up is a mystery, because Raven gets Charles to leave soon after.
Now to get to my point: Angel, Emma, and Raven all end up fighting for the bad guys. Angel and Emma work for Shaw and then switch allegiance to Erik/Magneto after Shaw's death, and Raven sides with Magneto. (In First Class, Raven seems to choose Erik because she's in love with him. By the original trilogy, she has definitely developed an evil character.) All three indecent women side with evil.
So does First Class intentionally portray indecency as evil? The answer is no. Some of the indecent actions are portrayed neutrally, if not exactly positively. For example, when Angel is a stripper, the general impression the movie gives is that she's in a bad situation, but not necessarily a bad person. This could be partly true, but not enough emphasis is placed on just how bad her actions were. Raven's attempted seduction of Erik is shown as a result of her search for a person she can truly belong with, not necessarily as the first step in the wrong direction. So indecency is shown more neutrally than I would like.
Another question could be asked. Does First Class portray indecent women as evil and/or misguided? The answer is yes. The most immodest, sexually immoral women in the movie all end up as bad characters. That's a bit of an odd take on indecency: Indecent actions are not necessarily wrong, but indecent women are bad. But, odd or not, for a big, popular movie, that's definitely a step in the right direction for Hollywood.
Friday, October 7, 2011
*Spoiler Reflections* On Marriage and Jane Eyre
"Some mere human law." These are the words Mr. Rochester (Michael Fassbender) uses to describe marriage. To him, his love and devotion for Jane (Mia Wasikowska) are all that matter. Love, or at least, his idea of love, conquers all - even a marriage that already exists between him and mad Bertha Mason. This is the same attitude that many in our ailing modern culture take toward the sacred, God-given institution of marriage. And, like Jane in the oft-told story, it is this attitude that we must reject.
Multiple lines in the newest adaptation of Jane Eyre mirror the prevailing modern attitude toward marriage. A pre-existing marriage is just "a mere convention impediment," according to Mr. Rochester. "Convention" is then the villain in his eyes, not himself. This is the same line of reasoning used both by cohabitants and same-sex union activists. Marriage is a "convention." Marriage is man-made. Marriage can be ignored. Or marriage can be altered to welcome any new combination of consenting adults - and, perhaps one day, children - who want to bestow that title on their relationship. Conventions change, so why shouldn't marriage? If two or more people say they "love" each other (though the definition of that word has become suspect), then marriage is not required. On the other hand, if two or more people love each other, then society should accept them like any traditional married couple. That, at least, is the reasoning.
The reasoning Mr. Rochester uses in an attempt to persuade Jane to become his mistress is similar to those used to justify broken marriages. In other words, divorce. Mr. Rochester pleads with Jane, telling her that, in the sinful relationship that he proposes, "the essential things are the same" as those in a real marriage. "I pledge you my honor, my fidelity, my love until death do us part," he whispers. In our culture, as long as two people "love" each other, it doesn't matter whether those two people have ever been married. As long as they are legally free to marry, they are morally free to do so.
Unfortunately, this the Protestant attitude toward marriage. I'll never forget the scene in Fireproof, the famous pro-marriage, low-budget film, where Catherine has a conversation with a coworker named Anna. Catherine and her husband are on the verge of divorce (which would be her husband's fault more than hers), and Catherine has been enjoying the attentions of a male coworker. Anna expresses distrust of the coworker and says something like: "If he is willing to flirt with you while you're still married, then he probably won't respect your marriage to him if you end up getting married." However, if marriage is not truly "until death to us part," if marriage is merely a legal status, then why should he respect it? What does it matter whether another man flirts with Catherine before or after she files the paperwork? If her marriage lasts only until she gets tired of her husband, then it arguably never existed at all. Either marriage is a temporary legal status that can be changed at any moment (and is therefore pretty much pointless), or it has some meaning and is 'til death. There is no other option.
Despite all arguments to the contrary, marriage is not a convention. It is not man-made. The title of marriage cannot be given to just any relationship. In Ephesians 5, St. Paul repeatedly compares the relationship of a man and his wife (not just two people who love each other) to the relationship of Christ and His Church. In this way, marriage is a covenant that reflects Christ's covenant with His Church. Christ was faithful unto death and will remain faithful throughout eternity. The Church has likewise remained faithful and will remain so for eternity, though its members sometimes stray. Christ will not simply divorce his Church and find another that is easier to get along with. He made a covenant and sealed it with His blood. In marriage, the couple makes a covenant and seals it with the marital embrace. After that, nothing except death can part them.
This was Jane's idea of marriage. Mr. Rochester had entered into a sacred bond with another woman, and only death could part them. He could verbally pledge his honor, his fidelity, and his love, but they were not his to give because he had given them to someone else. As he pledges these three to her, Jane cries "You cannot!" When he is finished, she counters with the question, "What of truth?" His marriage to her would not be a true marriage, and she wants nothing to do with a mere imitation. She soon afterward flees the room and his house.
Jane is vindicated in the end. After a period of several months, she returns to Mr. Rochester's house to find it is partially destroyed. There has been a fire, and Bertha is dead. Mr. Rochester lost his sight in an attempt to save her life - a truly heroic gesture given that Bertha was the impenetrable wall that had been built between him and Jane. Mr. Rochester and Jane are now free to marry, and marry they do (though it is not shown in this particular movie). But this time, each is free to pledge their honor, fidelity, and love in a true marriage with no impediments. Their embrace of true marriage and true love brings a happiness that nothing, not even blindness, can dampen. Thus, the prevailing attitudes in our culture must be rejected, for no "mere human law" could give such happiness.
Off-site links to more in-depth Church teaching and arguments:
Multiple lines in the newest adaptation of Jane Eyre mirror the prevailing modern attitude toward marriage. A pre-existing marriage is just "a mere convention impediment," according to Mr. Rochester. "Convention" is then the villain in his eyes, not himself. This is the same line of reasoning used both by cohabitants and same-sex union activists. Marriage is a "convention." Marriage is man-made. Marriage can be ignored. Or marriage can be altered to welcome any new combination of consenting adults - and, perhaps one day, children - who want to bestow that title on their relationship. Conventions change, so why shouldn't marriage? If two or more people say they "love" each other (though the definition of that word has become suspect), then marriage is not required. On the other hand, if two or more people love each other, then society should accept them like any traditional married couple. That, at least, is the reasoning.
The reasoning Mr. Rochester uses in an attempt to persuade Jane to become his mistress is similar to those used to justify broken marriages. In other words, divorce. Mr. Rochester pleads with Jane, telling her that, in the sinful relationship that he proposes, "the essential things are the same" as those in a real marriage. "I pledge you my honor, my fidelity, my love until death do us part," he whispers. In our culture, as long as two people "love" each other, it doesn't matter whether those two people have ever been married. As long as they are legally free to marry, they are morally free to do so.
Unfortunately, this the Protestant attitude toward marriage. I'll never forget the scene in Fireproof, the famous pro-marriage, low-budget film, where Catherine has a conversation with a coworker named Anna. Catherine and her husband are on the verge of divorce (which would be her husband's fault more than hers), and Catherine has been enjoying the attentions of a male coworker. Anna expresses distrust of the coworker and says something like: "If he is willing to flirt with you while you're still married, then he probably won't respect your marriage to him if you end up getting married." However, if marriage is not truly "until death to us part," if marriage is merely a legal status, then why should he respect it? What does it matter whether another man flirts with Catherine before or after she files the paperwork? If her marriage lasts only until she gets tired of her husband, then it arguably never existed at all. Either marriage is a temporary legal status that can be changed at any moment (and is therefore pretty much pointless), or it has some meaning and is 'til death. There is no other option.
Despite all arguments to the contrary, marriage is not a convention. It is not man-made. The title of marriage cannot be given to just any relationship. In Ephesians 5, St. Paul repeatedly compares the relationship of a man and his wife (not just two people who love each other) to the relationship of Christ and His Church. In this way, marriage is a covenant that reflects Christ's covenant with His Church. Christ was faithful unto death and will remain faithful throughout eternity. The Church has likewise remained faithful and will remain so for eternity, though its members sometimes stray. Christ will not simply divorce his Church and find another that is easier to get along with. He made a covenant and sealed it with His blood. In marriage, the couple makes a covenant and seals it with the marital embrace. After that, nothing except death can part them.
This was Jane's idea of marriage. Mr. Rochester had entered into a sacred bond with another woman, and only death could part them. He could verbally pledge his honor, his fidelity, and his love, but they were not his to give because he had given them to someone else. As he pledges these three to her, Jane cries "You cannot!" When he is finished, she counters with the question, "What of truth?" His marriage to her would not be a true marriage, and she wants nothing to do with a mere imitation. She soon afterward flees the room and his house.
Jane is vindicated in the end. After a period of several months, she returns to Mr. Rochester's house to find it is partially destroyed. There has been a fire, and Bertha is dead. Mr. Rochester lost his sight in an attempt to save her life - a truly heroic gesture given that Bertha was the impenetrable wall that had been built between him and Jane. Mr. Rochester and Jane are now free to marry, and marry they do (though it is not shown in this particular movie). But this time, each is free to pledge their honor, fidelity, and love in a true marriage with no impediments. Their embrace of true marriage and true love brings a happiness that nothing, not even blindness, can dampen. Thus, the prevailing attitudes in our culture must be rejected, for no "mere human law" could give such happiness.
Off-site links to more in-depth Church teaching and arguments:
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
*Spoiler Reflections* On Feminism in Flawless
This article contains spoilers for the 2007 movie Flawless (starring Michael Caine and Demi Moore)
When the movie Flawless began, I spent the first few minutes rolling my eyes almost constantly. In my opinion, the modern, warped idea of feminism has a lot to do with the problems in this country, and I don't like watching things that have feminist overtones. Although Flawless looked like it was going to be clad in an iron suit of feminism, I was quite surprised by some of the later developments.
At the beginning of the movie, Laura has a conversation with a young female reporter who wants to write about women who forged trails into all-male territory. Apparently she wants inspirational stories for the young women of today. Naturally, she chose Laura as one of her interviews; Laura had been employed by the all-male company of London Diamond in the 1960s. While this made it appear the movie was going to be saturated with themes concerning "oppressed" women, it turned out to be anything but.
When she discovers she's about to be fired, Laura sees her career for what it is: A temporary achievement. Nothing about it would last. She had sacrificed a family, love, and just about everything else for the goal of becoming a London Diamond branch manager, but it was all for naught. Faced with her failure to become a branch manager - her failure to even keep her job - she realizes that a career is not necessarily what it is made out to be. She had searched for "fulfillment" and failed.
In the end, Laura makes a career out of giving. Left with the money Hobbs effectively stole from London Diamond, she puts it to good use by giving it away. Somewhere in the course of her life, she gives herself to a man and a child - the man is her husband (she's wearing a wedding ring), and the child is presumably theirs. Just before she leaves, she tells the reporter that she hopes other young women would be inspired by the example Laura set - not the example of a ruthless business woman, but the example of a woman who gives.
I am not knocking women who want to pursue careers, nor am I criticizing working mothers. However, I think there is too much emphasis put on women finding "fulfillment" by having careers nowadays. Women are built to give. When we lose sight of that, we start down the dark path of modern feminism, which sacrifices everything for "self-fulfillment." This is not to say that men are not built to give as well. But women have become so intent on becoming "fulfilled" whatever the cost to men, children, or even themselves that they have forgotten the most important thing in life is not to satiate every desire, be it sexual, social, political, or business, but to give. Laura discovered this before it was too late. Perhaps our society will one day do the same.
When the movie Flawless began, I spent the first few minutes rolling my eyes almost constantly. In my opinion, the modern, warped idea of feminism has a lot to do with the problems in this country, and I don't like watching things that have feminist overtones. Although Flawless looked like it was going to be clad in an iron suit of feminism, I was quite surprised by some of the later developments.
At the beginning of the movie, Laura has a conversation with a young female reporter who wants to write about women who forged trails into all-male territory. Apparently she wants inspirational stories for the young women of today. Naturally, she chose Laura as one of her interviews; Laura had been employed by the all-male company of London Diamond in the 1960s. While this made it appear the movie was going to be saturated with themes concerning "oppressed" women, it turned out to be anything but.
When she discovers she's about to be fired, Laura sees her career for what it is: A temporary achievement. Nothing about it would last. She had sacrificed a family, love, and just about everything else for the goal of becoming a London Diamond branch manager, but it was all for naught. Faced with her failure to become a branch manager - her failure to even keep her job - she realizes that a career is not necessarily what it is made out to be. She had searched for "fulfillment" and failed.
In the end, Laura makes a career out of giving. Left with the money Hobbs effectively stole from London Diamond, she puts it to good use by giving it away. Somewhere in the course of her life, she gives herself to a man and a child - the man is her husband (she's wearing a wedding ring), and the child is presumably theirs. Just before she leaves, she tells the reporter that she hopes other young women would be inspired by the example Laura set - not the example of a ruthless business woman, but the example of a woman who gives.
I am not knocking women who want to pursue careers, nor am I criticizing working mothers. However, I think there is too much emphasis put on women finding "fulfillment" by having careers nowadays. Women are built to give. When we lose sight of that, we start down the dark path of modern feminism, which sacrifices everything for "self-fulfillment." This is not to say that men are not built to give as well. But women have become so intent on becoming "fulfilled" whatever the cost to men, children, or even themselves that they have forgotten the most important thing in life is not to satiate every desire, be it sexual, social, political, or business, but to give. Laura discovered this before it was too late. Perhaps our society will one day do the same.
Friday, November 19, 2010
*Spoiler Reflections* On Ivanhoe
This post contains spoilers for the 1982 movie Ivanhoe, based on the book by Sir Walter Scott.
Ivanhoe is a story of prejudice. As it was written during the fight for Jewish emancipation in England, the book was obviously intended to be an eloquent defense of Jews. But in the 1982 movie, the story of Brian de Bois-Guilbert's love for Rebecca, the lovely Jewess, takes precedence over the story of prejudice. This love begins as lust but deepens into true love as the story progresses, ultimately giving him the chance to redeem himself.
In Brian's first encounter with Rebecca, he is only interested in her beauty and cares nothing for her religion, reputation, or sensibilities. He removes her veil; a breach of decorum according to her faith. His disregard for everything but her beauty continues when she becomes his prisoner. First Brian tries to convince her to become his mistress, warning her that he could rape her if she refused. But when Rebecca responds by threatening to kill herself, he backs down. His concern for her life is the first hint that his lust is beginning to turn to love.
When Rebecca is accused of bewitching him by the leader of a Templar Preceptory and condemned to be burned at the stake, Brian makes a half-hearted attempt to rescue her while still preserving his rank and reputation. He tells her to demand a champion to fight for her - if a knight designated as her champion can kill a member of the Knights Templar in combat, she will be declared innocent of all charges. Brian plans to be her champion himself, but the Grand Master names him as the knight who must fight against her champion. Although Brian does nothing to change the man's mind, his attempt to save her life at the risk of his own - albeit while still preserving his rank and reputation - shows that his love for her has deepened more.
Brian then goes to Rebecca and tries to talk her into converting to Christianity and admitting that she's a witch. He also offers to break his vows and give up everything he holds dear if she, without converting, will flee with him to the continent. (Whether he should have offered to break his vows and run away with her or not is not the point.) Rebecca, of course, refuses both. When she is tied to the stake, about to be burned for crimes she did not commit, he pleas with her one last time to run away with him. Again she refuses. However, his willingness to sacrifice his rank and reputation to save her is proof that his love has progressed yet another step.
Finally, when he is about to kill Ivanhoe, who fights as Rebecca's champion but is not yet healed enough to be very good in combat, Brian glances up and catches Rebecca's eye. In that moment, his journey from lust to true love is completed. He gives up his life for Rebecca, allowing Ivanhoe to pierce him in what should have been a futile stab. Ivanhoe's victory, according to the laws of the Knights Templar (or, at least, that particular section of the Knights Templar), is proof of Rebecca's innocence, and she is allowed to go free.
Lust is when a person (man or woman) uses another as a sex toy. True love is when a person gives him or herself completely to or for another. When Brian first meets Rebecca, he cares only about her beauty and the potential pleasure she could give him. But as the story progresses, God's grace transforms him from a selfish, lustful man with no concern for Rebecca's religious beliefs, feelings, or honor into a man who is willing to give his life for the woman he loves.
Ivanhoe is a story of prejudice. As it was written during the fight for Jewish emancipation in England, the book was obviously intended to be an eloquent defense of Jews. But in the 1982 movie, the story of Brian de Bois-Guilbert's love for Rebecca, the lovely Jewess, takes precedence over the story of prejudice. This love begins as lust but deepens into true love as the story progresses, ultimately giving him the chance to redeem himself.
In Brian's first encounter with Rebecca, he is only interested in her beauty and cares nothing for her religion, reputation, or sensibilities. He removes her veil; a breach of decorum according to her faith. His disregard for everything but her beauty continues when she becomes his prisoner. First Brian tries to convince her to become his mistress, warning her that he could rape her if she refused. But when Rebecca responds by threatening to kill herself, he backs down. His concern for her life is the first hint that his lust is beginning to turn to love.
When Rebecca is accused of bewitching him by the leader of a Templar Preceptory and condemned to be burned at the stake, Brian makes a half-hearted attempt to rescue her while still preserving his rank and reputation. He tells her to demand a champion to fight for her - if a knight designated as her champion can kill a member of the Knights Templar in combat, she will be declared innocent of all charges. Brian plans to be her champion himself, but the Grand Master names him as the knight who must fight against her champion. Although Brian does nothing to change the man's mind, his attempt to save her life at the risk of his own - albeit while still preserving his rank and reputation - shows that his love for her has deepened more.
Brian then goes to Rebecca and tries to talk her into converting to Christianity and admitting that she's a witch. He also offers to break his vows and give up everything he holds dear if she, without converting, will flee with him to the continent. (Whether he should have offered to break his vows and run away with her or not is not the point.) Rebecca, of course, refuses both. When she is tied to the stake, about to be burned for crimes she did not commit, he pleas with her one last time to run away with him. Again she refuses. However, his willingness to sacrifice his rank and reputation to save her is proof that his love has progressed yet another step.
Finally, when he is about to kill Ivanhoe, who fights as Rebecca's champion but is not yet healed enough to be very good in combat, Brian glances up and catches Rebecca's eye. In that moment, his journey from lust to true love is completed. He gives up his life for Rebecca, allowing Ivanhoe to pierce him in what should have been a futile stab. Ivanhoe's victory, according to the laws of the Knights Templar (or, at least, that particular section of the Knights Templar), is proof of Rebecca's innocence, and she is allowed to go free.
Lust is when a person (man or woman) uses another as a sex toy. True love is when a person gives him or herself completely to or for another. When Brian first meets Rebecca, he cares only about her beauty and the potential pleasure she could give him. But as the story progresses, God's grace transforms him from a selfish, lustful man with no concern for Rebecca's religious beliefs, feelings, or honor into a man who is willing to give his life for the woman he loves.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
*Spoiler Reflections* On Star-Crossed
This post contains spoilers for an awful book called Star-Crossed by Linda Collison.
Have you ever read a book that was well-written enough to keep you reading, but such an awful book that you wonder at the end why you wasted so much time reading it? I had that experience recently when I read Star-Crossed by Linda Collison.
First off, I do not recommend anyone read Star-Crossed. And that isn't just an "oh, this book is laughably awful; don't read it." It's an "oh, this book is bad don't read it." Not only was it annoying, there were a couple of scenes that I skimmed because they made me more than a little uncomfortable.
Now I can get down to the book. The story was dreadful. Yet another example of an authoress who transposes modern ideas about women into previous centuries. A young woman passes herself off as a male ship surgeon's assistant - for months? Yeah, right. I realize that some women managed to pass themselves off as men on ships for at least a time. However, I find it hard to believe that a woman could do it without discovery by anybody. Except, of course, her former boyfriend, who just happens to be on the same ship... Anyway, surely those women who were able to pass themselves off as men were found out by some of their shipmates; the word just didn't got around to the officers for a while.
Not only was the story unoriginal and uninteresting, the men were all wrong. First the "heroine," Patricia Kelley, married an older, not-particularly-handsome doctor (a sort of marriage of convenience, although he was in love with her from the start). I preferred him immensely to the man Patricia was really in love with. Excuse me, she was actually in love with both of them... that is to say, she was in love with Dalton, the bosun's mate, and then fell in love with the doctor sometime after she married said doctor, and then fell back in love with Dalton when her husband died. Right. How stupid can she be?! Her husband may not have been a hundred percent respectful and sensitive all the time, but he was a much better man than Dalton.
Finally, there was the ending. The authoress left the reader with no clear idea of how it ended for Dalton and Patricia. It's assumed that they get married (although judging on how they carried on, it wouldn't surprise me if they didn't), but the fact that he's a sailor isn't really reconciled... I mean, Dalton makes a vague suggestion about the two of them going to America and settling down (because America, what with its Indians and stuff, is exciting enough to keep him from getting bored), but that's only a vague suggestion that isn't reiterated later in the book. Very annoying.
Whew. Thanks to anyone who hung with me for this entire post. I just had to get that off my chest. In conclusion, I'll just say that the book was one of the worst I've ever actually finished.
Have you ever read a book that was well-written enough to keep you reading, but such an awful book that you wonder at the end why you wasted so much time reading it? I had that experience recently when I read Star-Crossed by Linda Collison.
First off, I do not recommend anyone read Star-Crossed. And that isn't just an "oh, this book is laughably awful; don't read it." It's an "oh, this book is bad don't read it." Not only was it annoying, there were a couple of scenes that I skimmed because they made me more than a little uncomfortable.
Now I can get down to the book. The story was dreadful. Yet another example of an authoress who transposes modern ideas about women into previous centuries. A young woman passes herself off as a male ship surgeon's assistant - for months? Yeah, right. I realize that some women managed to pass themselves off as men on ships for at least a time. However, I find it hard to believe that a woman could do it without discovery by anybody. Except, of course, her former boyfriend, who just happens to be on the same ship... Anyway, surely those women who were able to pass themselves off as men were found out by some of their shipmates; the word just didn't got around to the officers for a while.
Not only was the story unoriginal and uninteresting, the men were all wrong. First the "heroine," Patricia Kelley, married an older, not-particularly-handsome doctor (a sort of marriage of convenience, although he was in love with her from the start). I preferred him immensely to the man Patricia was really in love with. Excuse me, she was actually in love with both of them... that is to say, she was in love with Dalton, the bosun's mate, and then fell in love with the doctor sometime after she married said doctor, and then fell back in love with Dalton when her husband died. Right. How stupid can she be?! Her husband may not have been a hundred percent respectful and sensitive all the time, but he was a much better man than Dalton.
Finally, there was the ending. The authoress left the reader with no clear idea of how it ended for Dalton and Patricia. It's assumed that they get married (although judging on how they carried on, it wouldn't surprise me if they didn't), but the fact that he's a sailor isn't really reconciled... I mean, Dalton makes a vague suggestion about the two of them going to America and settling down (because America, what with its Indians and stuff, is exciting enough to keep him from getting bored), but that's only a vague suggestion that isn't reiterated later in the book. Very annoying.
Whew. Thanks to anyone who hung with me for this entire post. I just had to get that off my chest. In conclusion, I'll just say that the book was one of the worst I've ever actually finished.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
*Spoiler Reflections* On Religion in Signs
This article contains spoilers of M. Night Shyamalan's movie Signs (starring Mel Gibson)
Which is better, a pie in the face or a pie on the table? A pie can't be eaten after it's been slapped in someone's face. A pie on the table, though, is ready and waiting to be enjoyed at its eater's leisure. The same can be said for movies. Filmmakers have two choices when they set out to make a movie: slap the viewer in the face with a message, or invite the viewer to enjoy the message at his or her leisure. Unfortunately, most Christian filmmakers choose the former.
Because of this, I am not a fan of movies made by Christian groups. Once, I tried to watch a Kendrick brothers film - Facing the Giants. I made it through ten minutes before I turned it off. I could see exactly how the story would go, and exactly how it would end. I could probably even paraphrase The Line that would tell the viewers exactly what the message of the movie was. The movie was predictable, and would just slap me with its message, over and over and over again. Don't get me wrong; sometimes people need to be slapped with a message. But not in movies.
Now I'll reveal the real reason I'm writing this blog post: Plugged In ticked me off. I watched Signs, M. Night Shyamalan's movie about faith. Curious about Plugged In's review of the movie, I went to the website and checked it out. I was unpleasantly surprised. The reviewer was disappointed in the way the movie portrayed Graham's renewal of faith. To quote the reviewer, "It's a windblown faith based less on God's remarkable and unchanging character than on how smoothly life is going at the moment." Respectfully, I couldn't disagree more.
When Graham's son Morgan survives because of his asthma, Graham realizes that "Someone" saved him. In the next scene, which is the final scene of the movie, we see Graham wearing his priestly collar. He has obviously renewed his commitment to God. Does he need to be shown praying to God, something he refused to do earlier in the movie? No. Besides, how could M. Night have shown Graham making a daily commitment to God, through good times and bad, without either drawing out the movie or putting in a very cheesy, slap-in-the-face line or series of lines? To me, the brief ending M. Night used is more than adequate for the story's purposes.
In the end, because there's only one "footnote" scene at the end of the movie, viewers walk away from Signs remembering the moment when Graham realizes that there are no coincidences, and that Someone is looking out for us. That moment has more power than a hundred scenes describing Graham's renewed commitment to God.
Monday, July 19, 2010
**Spoiler Reflections** On Murder On the Orient Express
Murder On the Orient Express fascinated me. Throughout the course of the movie, two big questions are asked. Should ordinary people take the law into their own hands when the law lets them down? Can God forgive every kind of crime?
Twelve ordinary citizens take the life of a man who only escaped being hanged for kidnapping, murder, and other heinous crimes by coercing the DA and other people involved in the trial to hide evidence. Did the twelve people have the right to do this? Ultimately, the answer in real life is no. In a big surprise, the movie gives us the same answer. Mary Debenhem, the governess, tells Poirot that she asked God what she should do when she was hurting from little Daisy Armstrong's kidnapping and murder. She said He told her to "do what is right." She was certain that when Cassetti was dead, she would be happy again. Poirot asks her if she is, in fact, happy. She looks at him with glassy eyes for a moment before she protests in a whisper: "But I did what was right!" This shows that she most certainly is not happy.
Various characters throughout the movie protest that God won't forgive everyone who asks for forgiveness. "Violence against the children" cannot be forgiven, the Scandanavian nurse Greta Ohlsson tells Poirot. The twelve people deeply hurt by Cassetti refuse to forgive him. He was essentially responsible for the deaths of five people very close to their hearts - one of them a lovable little five year old girl. No, they refuse to forgive him. So they make a plan and do what they believe the law should have done years ago: They mercilessly execute him. But Poirot is a Catholic, and Catholics believe that God, in His mercy, will forgive anything if someone sincerely asks for His forgiveness. After a night of reflection and prayer, Poirot decides to let the twelve murderers go free. Why? The movie never answers that part of the question. But it seems to me that Poirot was showing the murderers what they refused to show Cassetti: A reflection of God's mercy.
Twelve ordinary citizens take the life of a man who only escaped being hanged for kidnapping, murder, and other heinous crimes by coercing the DA and other people involved in the trial to hide evidence. Did the twelve people have the right to do this? Ultimately, the answer in real life is no. In a big surprise, the movie gives us the same answer. Mary Debenhem, the governess, tells Poirot that she asked God what she should do when she was hurting from little Daisy Armstrong's kidnapping and murder. She said He told her to "do what is right." She was certain that when Cassetti was dead, she would be happy again. Poirot asks her if she is, in fact, happy. She looks at him with glassy eyes for a moment before she protests in a whisper: "But I did what was right!" This shows that she most certainly is not happy.
Various characters throughout the movie protest that God won't forgive everyone who asks for forgiveness. "Violence against the children" cannot be forgiven, the Scandanavian nurse Greta Ohlsson tells Poirot. The twelve people deeply hurt by Cassetti refuse to forgive him. He was essentially responsible for the deaths of five people very close to their hearts - one of them a lovable little five year old girl. No, they refuse to forgive him. So they make a plan and do what they believe the law should have done years ago: They mercilessly execute him. But Poirot is a Catholic, and Catholics believe that God, in His mercy, will forgive anything if someone sincerely asks for His forgiveness. After a night of reflection and prayer, Poirot decides to let the twelve murderers go free. Why? The movie never answers that part of the question. But it seems to me that Poirot was showing the murderers what they refused to show Cassetti: A reflection of God's mercy.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
**Spoiler Reflections** On Stranded and Swiss Family Robinson
Stranded is a true-to-form Hallmark movie. Cliches, predictable plot "twists," and a little preaching are the name of the game. But this movie goes farther than the typical Hallmark movie - it has the nerve to destroy one of my favorite stories of all time.
I grew up watching Disney's version of Swiss Family Robinson. It took a back seat in my affections only to Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier, also a Disney movie. The horrifying extent to which the Stranded filmmakers changed the story of Swiss Family Robinson is immediately obvious. The viewer discovers in the very first scene of the movie that the Robinsons are British, not Swiss, and Mr. Robinson is a criminal convicted of refusing to swear allegience to the crown. He's a preacher and he feels his allegience is only due to God. The movie proceeds to further destroy SFR by replacing Francis with two other children, namely, Sarah and Jacob. (Side note: Why two foreign names (Fritz and Ernst) and two English ones (Sarah and Jacob)?) Then Jacob is separated from the rest of the family during the abandonment of the ship and is raised by pirates. Excuse me while I laugh. I had a crush on Fritz from SFR as soon as I was old enough to notice how good looking he was, so I'm glad he's also good looking in Stranded. Unfortunately, his character is lifeless. Ernst is done well, but I still prefer the gangly, nerdy Ernst to this silent, Latin-spouting fellow. Sarah is a near-pointless addition to the family since she is in few scenes and has almost nothing to offer the story. The parents are annoying compared to the ones in SFR, particularly the father. He spends the entire movie scowling (not that he doesn't have reason to scowl) and is an all-around stick-in-the-mud. Finally, the spunky Roberta from SFR has been replaced by an equally spunky Emily, who is unfortunately a terrible actress. (Plus, the dress she wears in her first scene is far too immodest for a respectable young woman of that time.) Not only that, but the sibling rivalry in SFR has been replaced by one-sided jealousy from Fritz.
The worst part of the movie was the endless stream of story lines that went nowhere. Mr. Robinson is suspicious of a native man - but four or five scenes later he becomes a trusted friend. Captain Blunt's preference for Lara Robinson is not only stupid, it's entirely pointless, adding absolutely nothing to the story. Mr. Robinson's conflict with Fritz only lasts about four scenes (thankfully). Fritz and Emily's love story is developed in a few short scenes. (Though, once again, I'm thankful for that; the love scenes are pathetic.) Last of all is the tension between Jacob and his family when the pirates capture the family's home. Vastly (and surprisingly) under-dramatized, this tension is allowed to "build" quickly - and comes to a climax before the movie's true climax. That under-cuts the family tension's claim as the main storyline in the movie.
In short, Stranded is a waste of three hours unless you're the type of person who watches pathetic movies in order to laugh at them. If you want to see a good movie about the Robinsons (though probably one that is in no way, shape, or form like the book), take my advice and watch the Disney version. It will save you a lot of pain.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
**Spoiler Reflections** On Family Themes
What do The Magnificent Seven and The Man Who Knew Too Much have in common? What do Dragonwyck and Marple: The Mirror Crack'd From Side To Side have in common? The first two are pro-family stories. The latter two are not.
The Magnificent Seven makes it quite clear that it is better (and harder) to be a good family man than it is to be a hired gun. Out of seven gunmen, none are truly happy with the lonely, dangerous life they have chosen. Only Chico is excited about being a gun-for-hire - and he's so young and inexperienced he doesn't know any better. In the end he chooses to settle down and become a farmer instead of riding off into the sunset with Chris Adams and Vin. Elsewhere in the movie, Bernardo O'Reilly practically adopts three Mexican boys when they follow him around, convinced he's braver than their own fathers. But O'Reilly eventually makes it quite clear to them that it takes much more bravery to be a husband, father, and farmer than someone who makes his living shooting people.
The Man Who Knew Too Much is about the McKennas, a married couple who mount a desperate search for their kidnapped son. Ben determinedly searches for their son, while he also serves as an anchor for his understandably upset wife. Jo shines before little Hank is captured - she was once a singer on stage, but has given up her career to live in Indianapolis with her physician husband. She wants to move to New York so she can partly revive her career, but it isn't paramount to her. That becomes obvious when she asks Ben when they're going to have another baby.
Dragonwyck, however, is not as family-centered. Nicholas Van Ryn wants a male heir so badly he murders his wife so he can marry a younger woman. Granted, he claims he has feelings for Miranda, but he treats her so roughly that he either doesn't know what true love is or his only reason for marrying her was so she could produce a son. (Incidentally, I can't figure out why he wants a son so much.) He already has a daughter by his first wife, but he completely neglects her. Eventually he becomes addicted to drugs. Miranda, terrified, goes to a local doctor for help - and falls in love with him! The "love" that existed between Nicholas and Miranda before his wife was murdered is portrayed as wrong and has deadly consequences. But the feelings between Dr. Turner and Miranda have no consequences. True, she pretty much refuses to have anything to do with him (except when she lets him kiss her...), but there is no clear condemnation of their attachment.
Marple: The Mirror Crack'd From Side To Side also contains a character with little regard for marriage and an unhealthy desire for a child. Marina Gregg, on her third husband, wanted a child so badly she adopted two of them - and essentially abandoned them when she discovered she was pregnant. But her child, Robert, was born with a severe mental disability. Marina's selfish desire for a child couldn't withstand such a severe "disappointment." She suffered a nervous breakdown and left Hollywood for over a decade, eventually bringing her husband total up to five. Now, all these things are looked upon by Miss Marple as being evidence of Marina's fragility. The actress is not portrayed as being right - merely unhinged enough to vengefully commit murder. In defense of the move, however, I must say I was pleased when the filmmakers included a scene with Robert. He was reduced to a vague idea - a motive for murder - in the book, but seeing him included in a scene in the movie rather "humanized" him. He became a person instead of a "wretched little creature."
Few books or movies have truly pro-family themes nowadays. Very few characters have intact families, and those that do are often ashamed of them - and, the authors or filmmakers want us to believe, with good reason. Idiot fathers, annoying siblings, and distracted mothers seem to be the norm. Unfortunately, Dragonwyck and Marple: The Mirror Crack'd From Side To Side rather follow this trend (though neither is technically a recent story; Marple is based on a book that was written at least fifty years ago), as they both contain characters with unhealthy views on marriage and children. At the same time, The Magnificent Seven and The Man Who Knew Too Much are filled with themes that show family life and a strong marriage to be very good things.
The Magnificent Seven makes it quite clear that it is better (and harder) to be a good family man than it is to be a hired gun. Out of seven gunmen, none are truly happy with the lonely, dangerous life they have chosen. Only Chico is excited about being a gun-for-hire - and he's so young and inexperienced he doesn't know any better. In the end he chooses to settle down and become a farmer instead of riding off into the sunset with Chris Adams and Vin. Elsewhere in the movie, Bernardo O'Reilly practically adopts three Mexican boys when they follow him around, convinced he's braver than their own fathers. But O'Reilly eventually makes it quite clear to them that it takes much more bravery to be a husband, father, and farmer than someone who makes his living shooting people.
The Man Who Knew Too Much is about the McKennas, a married couple who mount a desperate search for their kidnapped son. Ben determinedly searches for their son, while he also serves as an anchor for his understandably upset wife. Jo shines before little Hank is captured - she was once a singer on stage, but has given up her career to live in Indianapolis with her physician husband. She wants to move to New York so she can partly revive her career, but it isn't paramount to her. That becomes obvious when she asks Ben when they're going to have another baby.
Dragonwyck, however, is not as family-centered. Nicholas Van Ryn wants a male heir so badly he murders his wife so he can marry a younger woman. Granted, he claims he has feelings for Miranda, but he treats her so roughly that he either doesn't know what true love is or his only reason for marrying her was so she could produce a son. (Incidentally, I can't figure out why he wants a son so much.) He already has a daughter by his first wife, but he completely neglects her. Eventually he becomes addicted to drugs. Miranda, terrified, goes to a local doctor for help - and falls in love with him! The "love" that existed between Nicholas and Miranda before his wife was murdered is portrayed as wrong and has deadly consequences. But the feelings between Dr. Turner and Miranda have no consequences. True, she pretty much refuses to have anything to do with him (except when she lets him kiss her...), but there is no clear condemnation of their attachment.
Marple: The Mirror Crack'd From Side To Side also contains a character with little regard for marriage and an unhealthy desire for a child. Marina Gregg, on her third husband, wanted a child so badly she adopted two of them - and essentially abandoned them when she discovered she was pregnant. But her child, Robert, was born with a severe mental disability. Marina's selfish desire for a child couldn't withstand such a severe "disappointment." She suffered a nervous breakdown and left Hollywood for over a decade, eventually bringing her husband total up to five. Now, all these things are looked upon by Miss Marple as being evidence of Marina's fragility. The actress is not portrayed as being right - merely unhinged enough to vengefully commit murder. In defense of the move, however, I must say I was pleased when the filmmakers included a scene with Robert. He was reduced to a vague idea - a motive for murder - in the book, but seeing him included in a scene in the movie rather "humanized" him. He became a person instead of a "wretched little creature."
Few books or movies have truly pro-family themes nowadays. Very few characters have intact families, and those that do are often ashamed of them - and, the authors or filmmakers want us to believe, with good reason. Idiot fathers, annoying siblings, and distracted mothers seem to be the norm. Unfortunately, Dragonwyck and Marple: The Mirror Crack'd From Side To Side rather follow this trend (though neither is technically a recent story; Marple is based on a book that was written at least fifty years ago), as they both contain characters with unhealthy views on marriage and children. At the same time, The Magnificent Seven and The Man Who Knew Too Much are filled with themes that show family life and a strong marriage to be very good things.
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