Showing posts with label Inception. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Inception. Show all posts

Saturday, January 22, 2011

The Inception of Love


Caution: Spoilers Abound for All Christopher Nolan Films

To begin, let me say this: 
I want to live in love. I want love to rule my life, to define my actions. 
Always. 

There are very few aspects of The Dark Knight that I personally will acknowledge as possible flaws in the creation of that fantastic story. One of those few that do appear to me as legitimate is that of the lack of emotional torque in Bruce Wayne's character... or rather, the lack of time we the audience are given to invest in the emotional state of the Batman himself. In some manner, the death of Rachel Dawes feels more like a plot device to convince us that Bruce is troubled than anything else. We are told to believe that Bruce loves Rachel, but are we ever really sold on that?

Nolan's films have this odd tendency to sell us short on the love spectrum -- hmm -- perhaps that statement is not quite right. Rephrase: Nolan's films never show true love fulfilled; met.

Remember Hamlet? We never say him act out his love towards Ophelia until she rested in the grave. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GsPhKVjFlc&feature=related

HAMLET
I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers
Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?

A quick look back at romantic love in Nolan's films is quite revealing.

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Following: Our protagonist seems to fall for a young blonde that he recently robbed. As it turns out, the protagonist's friend (whose name happens to be Cobb, the very name our lead in Inception claims for himself) and the blonde manipulated this 'love' so as to frame our protagonist for murder. The end, of course, is slightly more complex, as Cobb kills the blonde and frames our main dude for that murder. 
Conclusion: Love is a shame/Love is manipulation.
Memento: Leonard had a wife. He had a love. But she was raped (murdered?), and ol' Lenny is blessed with the inability to love anyone new (due to the whole memory making problems situation, you see). We are led through most of the film to believe that love was killed by force, by death, but the interpretation that I think answers the most questions has Leonard's wife surviving the rape. In this scenario, it would be Leonard's mind that in the end killed the marriage. We are also served a good deal of betrayal in Memento. Both Leonard's copfriend and his ladyfriend turn out to be utilitarians in the sense that they abuse Leonard's memory to work towards their own gains. Finally, let us recall that we never see Leonard happy in this film. All the thoughts of loved are trapped as unlivable memories.
Conclusion: Love ends/Love is too fragile/Compassion is manipulation.
Insomnia: There is no love story here. There is, however, a death of love. After Detective Will Dormer shoots (on accident?) his partner to death, he is burdened with the heavy task of informing his fallen comrade's wife about the death. This is done over the phone. We never see the wife's face. We only ever hear her sorrow. There is, of course, one other potential pair of lovers. Our main murderer, played disturbingly instinctual by Robin Williams, tells Dormer that he loved the girl he killed. It was some form of embarrassment and/or jealousy that led him to do the brutal thing he did. 
Conclusion: Love is fragile/Love ends/Love is a conduit to extreme anger or sadness.
Batman Begins: Bruce loves Rachel. Bruce happens to be a vigilante. We get one kiss at the end of the film. Hooray! But then Rachel has to go and spoil it seconds later by saying: Your real face is the one that criminals now fear. The man I loved - the man who vanished - he never came back at all. But maybe he's still out there, somewhere. Maybe some day, when Gotham no longer needs Batman, I'll see him again. Loved? Past-tense -- so again it happens that we still never see our protagonist in a state of love. It was in the past, and, according to the denouement of Batman Begins, maybe in the future. Great. I happen to know how that one turns out. Oh, and let us not be too hasty to forget Batty's ol' pop. He and Mama presumably loved each other, and Daddy was renown for his compassionate character. Yep, they get popped. Dead via murder. 
Conclusion: Love ends/Love is fragile/Compassion is manipulation/Love is a conduit to extreme anger or sadness.
The Prestige: This one gets us from moment one! We have a happy couple! Look, Hugh just kissed her ankle! Oh they love each other so! And then our inciting incident occurs. She's dead. Great. That happiness lasted what, a good six, maybe seven minutes. Yep, and then, 90 minutes later, Christian Bale's girl goes and kills herself. Oh joy!  And Scarlett Johannson is mostly just leveraged as a manner of manipulation by our dueling illusionists. Jee-whiz! What fun we have with love!
Conclusion: Love is fragile/Love ends/Love is manipulation/Love is a conduit to extreme anger or sadness.
The Dark Knight: Well, in one of the Joker's infancy stories, he tells us he had a wife. She was physically mutilated. Our dear Joker tried to make her feel better, so she abandoned him. More tangible is the love-triangle of Dent-Dawes-Wayne. As it turns out, Dent wins. Rachel Dawes agrees that she'll marry District Attorney Harvey Dent because ol' Bruce will never be able to hang up his cape. Sucks to be Batman! And then she dies that very instant. Murdered. As soon as she speaks her love into existence, she is taken from us. The result for Bruce is one depressed scene. For Harvey Dent, the destruction of his love creates a new madness. His love eradicated, Harvey becomes the antithesis of love; a becomes a super-villain. Then he dies. The end.
Conclusion: Love is fragile/Love ends/Love is a conduit to extreme anger or sadness.
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And with that we are brought to Inception, the most romance infused entry in the Nolan-verse. We have a love story that extends over five decades. This feature really is the consummate Hamlet-sode. We have illusions and the effects of a deep love unfathomable, but we are never able to experience it in action. We have only its memory, made wretched by guilt and Poe's raven, flapping about madly with his lamentation of 'Nevermores'. 

And, also like Hamlet, we have our ladylover end herself. 

What does it mean? 

After being stabbed in the dreamscape by Cobb's ghostly reminiscence, Ariadne storms out of Cobb's presence. He then comforts his coworker in her absence: Reality won't be enough for her now.

Nolan's films are heavy on beliefs. Leonard's conviction that he still needs to seek revenge on John G. gives him solace through meaning. Will Dormer's belief as to whether he purposefully killed his partner or not will define him for the rest of his life. 

The Dark Knight begins with a (when you think about it) strange declaration by a shotgun wielding bank manager:
BANK MANAGER
Oh, criminals in this town used to believe in things. 
Honor. Respect. Look at you! 
What do you believe in, huh? 
WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE IN?
 
Nolan extols belief as that which leads to action. And though we never see love in action, we see its consequences relentlessly poured out. Love, and perhaps as well its destruction, is the most dynamic force in all of Nolan's creation. It fuels movement. It is the life-force behind our greatest actions.

Hmm... that makes me think... Remember Christ's words:
There is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends (John 15:13 NLT).

But there's more! 
Why is love never realized in Nolan's world? 
Answer: It can't be.
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Not only is love fragile, but it is rationally, actually, workably: impossible. 
Why?
Answer: The world's not enough. Put it another way: Reality won't be enough for [us] now.

Nolan's characters yearn for a world that can't really be... not in this generation, not on this damaged soil.  Many have presumed, probably correctly, that Christopher Nolan is an atheist. Whether that is true or not may just turn out to be irrelevant, for his films are desperately seeking an answer to life's most enigmatic question: why are we never fully satisfied?

There's gotta be more to life than this. 
It's never enough. I say again, it's never enough.
When will it be?

Saturday, January 1, 2011

The Top 28 Lingering Fragrances of 2010

But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and manifests through us the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place. 2 Corinthains 2:14
I remember being told that the olfactory scent is the strongest medium for memory in the brain. My experience strengthens this idea, as certain smells viscerally remove me from my current dwelling and transplant me to some far off place I once knew. Sunlight seeping in the living room as my mother dusts the furniture to the beat of 50's music. A high school girlfriend. An 2nd grade sleepover party with The Mario Bros. movie as the centerpiece of our attention. These memories come back potently when the certain whiff slithers up my nostrils.

All things have a fragrance in the mind. Some beautiful and alluring, others sickening. This list is my effort to make known those experiences with art and being that carried the most potent aromas to my soul in 2010. The list includes anything that I encountered, whether new or old, that stirred me to some mode of passion.

If you find the list excessive, know that it is only so because words fail where passion begins.

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28. Rize documentary film, by David LaChapelle
Many years ago, on the special features on the dvd of Shadow of the Vampire, there was a trailer for a bizarre film called Begotten. The trailer terrified me. The film appeared to be some sort of surreal, incomprehensible creation parable. From this experience I made a hasty conclusion; that which is absurd is not from God. The documentary Rize by David LaChapelle examines the crunking and clowning circles that arose in the late 90's in South Central LA. Crunking appears like some sort of demonic form of dance. It involves contortions of the body that mimic a psychotic episode of horrific seizures. The film, however, explores the roots and function of the dance style. By the end of the film's narrative argument, I am swayed to believe that this dance movement not only can be free of demonism, but could very well be a pleasant worship to our Lord. My context of suburban church life informed me that such radical dancing must be absurd... and so it is that I discover that at times my very cultural lens can keep me from recognizing a holy dance of thankfulness to the God of all cultures.
Inhale the Trailer here!

27. Mariel's Brazen Overture song, by Margot and the Nuclear So and So's
This particular song marries together 4 devices that I find particularly effective and emotive in music:
  • A dialogue between man and woman
  • A toxic mixture of regret and nostalgia
  • An Abrupt tempo change
  • An undercurrent of tragedy


    26. Horton Hears a Who! film, by Jimmy Hayward and Steve Martino
    I purchased this movie before ever viewing it because it was cheap and boasted a Slovenian audio track as well as both English and Slovenian subtitles. I've watched it many times since that day in an effort to expand my Slovenian knowledge -- whether or not it was an effective tool of language acquisition is anyone's guess. What the li'l Suessian knockoff did do for me was rip out my tender little heart every time that third act comes around. The film features an elephant who can hear the voice of a certain Who who lives on a dandelion world of microscopic Whoville-ians. None of the other animals in the forest can see or hear this miniature universe, so they hastily conclude that Horton the elephant is insane. Naturally, they decide to destroy the dandelion of Whos. At that moment, those instances right before Horton's world of friends is to be executed, an underlining of empathy strikes me in the face. Every damn time. Horton has a kind of faith in the Whos. His faith is being not only put on trial, but executed. Horton is alone in his knowledge and hope, and can't seem to make others understand and believe what he knows. Thus I see a parallel with the life of the zealous Christian. It makes my heart hurt... but it's the good type of hurt.
    Breathe in the trailer here!


    25. Red Riding Trilogy film series, by Julian Jarrold, James Marsh, Anand Tucker
    The world is a shitty place, brimming with ugly people committing the ugliest of deeds. These three movies are an unpleasantry. They are not fun to endure. Evil act follows evil motive. On and on the corruption and vileness continue. Only there, in that moral destitution, can a visceral, all-encompassing moment of grace be appreciated. At the tail end of the trilogy, a scene that surely is no longer than 20 seconds lifts us up past the sewage of our sins, to the very feet of the Mystery who loves us. Those few seconds effortlessly redeem the whole of the film trilogy.


    24. Inception film, by Christopher Nolan
    Robert Angier reveals at the end of The Prestige, "The audience knows the truth: the world is simple. It's miserable, solid all the way through." I’ve been a faithful admirer of Christopher Nolan’s filmography for a long length of time now. The man is incapable of making mediocre films. What has been ever so fascinating, is that his characters almost universally tend to flow from a self-willed beliefism towards a final sense of nihilism by the each film’s denouement. What makes Inception special, is that his protagonist starts with this premise of nihilism. From the getgo he assumes the world is solid, but his desires keep him searching for something more… and so we witness a birth of a form of existentialism. Out of this nihilistic premise grows the same quandaries that Shakespeare wrestled with; is life really worth living? Nolan appears to be answering yes, if only the dreams that may come can manifest themselves now.
    Trailer here!

    23. Ruby Tuesday song, as sung by Franco Battiato
    Children of Men is a film of mastery. Set in a world that is rapidly spinning toward its own end, somehow wonder is found. The film is directed with many breathtaking cinematic shots. If the film's cinematic lens represents the film's creative mind, then the cover of The Rolling Stone's Ruby Tuesday is the heart. We tend to believe that innocence is a thing that is lost somewhere amidst children. The world siffens its essence from us, and we become damned to its aroma. Nevertheless, within the confines of the song's anthem lies a delicate hope that innocence can be regained for even the most battle weary among us. Innocence restored and life regained.

    22. White Dog film, by Samuel Fuller
    Animals are a conundrum for me. On the one hand, they innately, to me, represent God's creativity. In observation of them, it is easy for my mind to worship God. Yet on the other hand, animals present a glaring disturbance to my sometimes violent Christian faith. Adam sinned. He fucked up the world over. And yes, we have been separated from God and now are prone towards evil. We sin. Yet animals, those creatures of which Adam was given to name and claim authority over, suffer because of us. They are a potent reflection of our vileness. And yet they themselves are without blame. They have no moral conscious. They are simply receptors of the outpourings of our sinful lusts. White Dog reminds us of the damage done. Death is coming.
    Trailer here!


    21. Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai film, by Jim Jarmusch
    Once upon a time I saw within this film something that intrigued me. It seemed to me that Ghost Dog hid within its bosom some sort of great secret that was waiting to be unlocked. I decided to take it upon myself to unveil this covert enigma. Often I ended up playing the film in the background as I worked on other projects, as if hoping to absorb the film's latent meaning through some sort of osmosis. Well, the osmosis didn't take, and I still can't tell you what the film is about... but I can tell you that it means something. What that is, I have no idea. But it's something. Something, alright.
    20. The Blue Mosque building
    As the time of advent hurdled towards its summation this December year, I ventured into an active mosque for the first time in my life. I didn't exactly know what to expect, or know how I would respond. I still don't know how I should respond. Can you tell me? Should I feel pity? Mercy? Compassion? Righteous anger? I cannot be devoid of a position on the matter, and yet, I am frozen by my indecisiveness as to how to deal with such an experience. My soul seems quiet on the subject. What do I do with this?

    19. The Films of Terrence Malick director
    Tree of Life is coming. I don't know anything about Terrence Malick the man. I know much more about Terrence Malick the filmmaker. He is contemplative. He thinks thoughts that others do not. He is compassionate... and he has never made a bad film.  Above all, he appears to be concerned about the state of the individual soul, and the actions that mold it. Few people are.

    18. Burek food
    Slovenians inform me that Burek is a Serbian food, but wikipedia tells me it has its origins further south amongst the former Ottoman empire people. Nevertheless, for me, burek represents cheap Slovenian fastfood – and I mean that as a term of endearment. Not only has 2010 been the first full year that I've lived abroad, but it has also been the first time I've lived on my own... and burek can stand as my stoic flag of rugged bachelorhood.


    17. The Suburbs album, by Arcade Fire
    Our lives are meant, I reckon, to be exciting. God made us with a sense of adventure. We long to discover. We long to play. We long to conquer. Somehow, along the way, we move to the suburbs. We become mechanisms of our society. We spend our time complaining and eating. The Suburbs is a fantastic effort to keep us baroque before we turn roccocco.


    16. Rumi poetry, as translated by Coleman Barks
    Often, I want to call certain people my friends. Eight centuries separate Rumi and I. I think that Rumi would say that eight centuries would be nothing for two friends. Rumi was a sufist and not a Christian, supposedly. I hope that maybe he found Christ as an answer before his end came. I hope I can someday meet this man of whom I want to make friends with. I hope.
    The following is taken from the poem A Dove in the Eaves:

    You push me out on many journeys;
    then you anchor me with no motion at all.

    I am water. I am the thorn 
    that catches someone's clothing.

    I don't care about marvelous sights!
    I only want to be in your presence.

    There's nothing to believe.
    Only when I quit believing in myself
    did I come into this beauty.

    I saw you blade and burned my shield!
    I flew on six hundred pairs of wings like Gabriel.
    But now that I'm here, what do I need wings for?

    Day and night I guarded the pearl of my soul.
    Now in this ocean of pearling currents,
    I've lost track of which was mine.

    There is no way to describe you.
    Say the end of this so strongly
    that I will ride up over 
    my own commotion.

    15. The Mind of Charles Williams novelist
    Who would C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien care to hang out with? Answer: men like Charles Williams. I've only now finished one of Williams' novels, but it was a doosy. Splendid times, I tells ya. Williams is obsessed with the marriage of the spiritual and the physical. He tells me of things I long to reach.



     14. Frailty film, by Bill Paxton
    Slippery slopes are made for sliding. Frailty is a queer little film about a father who is given a list of names from an angel of God. This father is expected to kill the people on the list. The movie might seem foolish, but ask yourself what makes a thing right or a thing wrong. God. Only God. Whatever God deems as good is good. The ninth commandment tells us not to lie, and yet Rahab is blessed for lying and hiding the Israelite spies. God alone dictates what is good; not you or I. Remember Rahab.
    Watch the Trailer here!


    13. Where the Wild Things Are film, by Spike Jonze
    The young boy Max is told in school that someday the sun will die. An hour later in the film, Carol, the 'leader' of the Wild Things, shows much melancholic distress about the sun's demise. All things die. How does a child register that fact? Nothing is forever. Perhaps above all, children long for security, but how is that possible, if even something as big as the sun is going to die? Max says, “I have a sadness shield that keeps out all the sadness, and it’s big enough for all of us.” No one tell Max that shields rust.
    Trailer here!



    12. Eh Hee music video, by Dave Matthews
    This music video seethes anger through the cracks of its jagged teeth. Such fascinating anger... and yet, I find that I can empathize with such frustrations. What does that make me?
    WATCH IT NOW!





    11. The Angel of Death Came to David's Room song, by Mewithoutyou
    The Myers-Briggs psych exam, among other facts, evaluates one's extroversion. How is extroversion/introversion defined? – the answer is interesting to me. It is not simply a matter of whether you like to be around other people or not. No. Extroversion is calculated by the degree to which one draws energy from other people. This song, with its hypnotic critique of the moral life of King David, is a concrete source of energy for me. Press play on that sucker a few consecutive times, and soon I'll be bouncing off the walls.
    Listen Here!

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    -- A brief word about the top ten -- 
     6 of the 10 top fragrances of 2010 are people. I see this as a direct result of a growth in my relationship with God and understanding of the care into which he formed creation. As mighty as buildings like the Hagia Sophia can be, they are merely aesthetic offerings sculpted in time by men. The infinitely greater thrill is the men themselves. Every individual has more inherent value than all the cathedrals of the world. It is this conviction that must permeate our attitudes towards the rest of creation. That which the Lord made is beautiful beyond our capacity to enjoy it.

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    10. Infinite Jest novel, by David Foster Wallace

    David Foster Wallace committed suicide. And then there's the title of his novel. I should have seen this coming. I had no right to expect some sort of euphoric ending from Infinite Jest, but I did. I hoped that this story of a movie so entertaining that it kills anyone who watches it (once you start watching you literally are never willing to do anything but keeping watching it – so all cases lead to death), would finish with some divine insight about the state of my reality. No luck. Wallace’s novel is a painful lesson that genius does not necessarily lead to revelation. The will to genius is not the same door that leads to revelation -- this was a paramount lesson for me to learn this past year. Vital, really.

    9. LOST television show, by J.J Abrams, Damon Lindelof, Carlton Cuse

    I've had some bad breakups in the past, but nothing like this. LOST left me. And it hurts. I want to go back. I want to make it right. I want to change the way things went. I want to fall in love again. But I can't. What happened, happened.
    Click here for a concise recap of the show!

    8. Richard McGraw musician

    Mr. McGraw is my patron saint of misgivings and irreconcilable desires. Born into a Catholic environment, McGraw's songs are laced with spiritual angst. He asks Jesus to let him sleep with the girl he knows he shouldn't be with (The Things that Devils Bring), he prays for the soul of the doubter (Hopefully), and cries for a grace that he can't yet feel (That Old Song). He is a man both plagued and inspired by his spiritual convictions. He is a relatable guy. Keep singin', brotha.
    Check out his myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/richardmcgraw

    7. Soren Kierkegaard philosopher

     Ol' Kierks gets an honorable slot on this list for one simple reason: he finds the whole story of Abraham and Isaac as a bit absurd. In fact, I would say that at some point, Kierkegaard was left dumbfounded by the Biblical account. He simply couldn't just leave it as is and say, “Yeah, that makes sense… moving on.” No. He fought to understand. In his Jacob-esque wrestling, Kierkegaard arrives at a decision. He declares that those among us who are most intimate with God may act in such a manner that appears silly to us. They are being truly, madly, and deeply Spirit led. Of course, the argument is far more layered than that, but who cares! Soren resonates. Let such wings flap.
    Download a free ebook of Kiekegaard's collected essays: On Faith and the Self Here!

    6. Ayran food

    Ayran is a crazy milk/yogurt/salt mix. It does not taste good. It tastes bad, in fact. Upon arriving in Istanbul, I was introduced to the bizarre liquid. Upon first taste, I found it instantaneously displeasing. Despite my taste buds cries, I was driven to experiment. Ayran may just be the most popular drink in Turkey. How can this be? It tastes dreadful. Then I remembered being a child, tasting coffee, and being absorbed entire by the conviction that all people who love coffee are crazy. Now I chug coffee everyday. It is pleasing to me now to drink it. Remembering this, I took it upon myself to drink ayran at every opportunity. Everyday. It took nearly two weeks, but just a mere two days before my departure from Istanbul, I came to a place where I can honestly say that the drink is pleasing to me. Ladies and gentlemen, taste is entirely subjective -- Even more substantial, it can be bent to our will! I wonder, what else is subjective?


    5. Jon Stewart political comedian 

    Comedy is relaxing. Glenn Beck is not. Mr. Beck held a giant-mega-super-awesome rally in Washington D.C. earlier this year. The rallying cry of that mob appeared to be a deep seated conviction by a great legion of Americans that the country is heading towards dark days. Apparently, many people are fearful of the coming night. I'm no optimist when it comes to politics. I see bad things coming down the bend as well, but I ardently reject the methods of retaliation that many of my fellow Christians are promoting against those in power. Anger will not solve the Christian's problems, nor will mere protest. Two sidepoints: (1) corruption in Washington is across the board, not solely a disease among Democrats. (2) The spiritual state of people's souls is infinitely more important than how your tax dollars are being used. Mr. Stewart this October held what appeared to be a rally in reaction to Beck's, entitled Rally to Restore Sanity. He is brandishing tools of compassion, understanding, and common sense as his arsenal to combat rampant political corruption. Who on the political right speaks of such things? I disagree with much of what Stewart believes, but I respect his methods of approach. Mr. Beck merely cries and whispers of vast conspiracies. What's the point in advocating truth if hate gets you there? Come what may. If America dies, it dies. What matter is it? As for me, I will love my neighbor as myself.
    Watch Jon Stewart every week on The Daily Show at: http://www.thedailyshow.com/

    4. Lars von Trier film director

    He started it. After enduring a sick feast of masochistic torture bled in the form of the film Antichrist, Lars Von Trier has the audacity to tribute his film to Andrei Tarkovsky, one of the great fathers of Christian Spiritualism in Film. Lars Von Trier is a stunning force of filmmaking mastery. The man's genius can no longer be denied. He is great. He is great. He is great... and he is wrong. I will continue to see his films as remarkable feats of artistry and passion, but with much power comes much responsibility. I don't believe he cares for his audience, only his intuition blended with conviction. 'To hell with them,' he thinks. I respond, 'Soon enough.'
    Be Careful as you watch the Antichrist trailer here! 

    3. Ayn Rand philosopher/novelist

    Ayn Rand ruined It's a Wonderful Life!. I was just sitting there, minding my own business, relishing the Christmas season enjoying the wit and wisdom of Mr. George Bailey, when she suddenly had to butt her dumb old persuasive philosophy in my face. Old man Potter is set as the evil moneygrubber in that film. Director Frank Capra paints him as only concerned with profit and progress. In an instant, I am caught off guard by my own question. »Why is that so wrong to want to run a successful business? Mr. Potter isn't doing anything illegal. Why is it so wrong to not want to loan money to people who can't pay you back? Isn't that exactly how we got into the whole mortgage crisis in 2008? Thanks for that one, Ayn.


    2. Sufjan Stevens musician

    The question posed now has a tremendous elevation. The stakes are staggering. Is Sufjan a prophet? Is he a priest? Sufjan Stevens has a tremendous portfolio of musical expression that resonates deeply into the soft spots of my heart. In his latest album he looks no longer at the theme of whole States of the American Union (as he has done thus far with Michigan and Illinois), but at the individual. His album etches an outline of a deeply disturbed artist. Listen deeper, and you can make out the expression of an autobiography as well. Sufjan finds a source of commonality and union with this artist (as he did once upon a time with the serial killer John Wayne Gacy Jr), and merges their singular voice as an anthem of authentic emotion to God. The icing on the cake is finding myself in his lyrics also (as in I Want to be Well). Now the hope remains as this: that Sufjan's voice would not only remain beautiful to me, but be universally seen as a work of tremendous achievement. But ultimately more important, I hope Sufjan takes up his cross and actively acknowledges that he may, with his current arsenal of tools, lead a wandering band of soul-searchers ever closer to the Architect of all souldom.
    Click here to read my previous column concerning Sufjan.
    Listen to all of Sufjan's new album The Age of Adz here for free!


    1. Equus film, directed by Sydney Lumet, written by Peter Shaffer

    I am not recommending this film. That would be unwise. I am merely advocating its thoughts. Its convictions.

    Alan: Gods don't die.
    Dr. Dysart: Oh yes they do.


    I will merely state that the viewing of this film in conjunction with the manner and time in which I observed it led to a series of highly influential murmurings in my head. Equus is the story of two people: a tortured young man, and an aging psychologist who uses the young man to find his own torment. Simple enough, eh?

    Passion, you see, can be destroyed by a doctor. It cannot be created.

    The story runs like this:
    • Alan loves horses – until the day he gouges out their eyes.
    • Dr. Dysart wants to cure Alan of his abnormalities.
    • Alan tells the doctor about his worship of the god Equus.
    • Dr. Dysart becomes jealous of Alan's capacity for passion.
    • Alan is cured by talking through the events that led to his attack. He becomes normal.
    • Dr. Dysart is left with a burning doubt as to whether he did the right thing.
    Read my initial thoughts on the film here.

    Sigh... I'm such a sucker for doubters.

    I need, more desperately than my children need me, a way of seeing in the dark.

    Peter Shaffer likes to write stories about people touched by God, and those around them who feel excluded from that ray of light. What I take away with from Equus, unlike from his other masterpiece Amadeus, is that everyone is touched from the divine, but most of us systematically work Him out of our lives. We refuse the divine for the mundane.

    Somehow, someway, the watching of Equus set off this little notion in my head that dabbling with insanity might very well be a dandy idea, if it is in pursuit of God, the Divine. This thought leads me to vomit out my Aristotelian lens which speaks of balance as the key ingredient to Godliness. Forget balance. I want communion with God. And I want it all the time. We can't balance God. He is unbalancable.

    Dr. Dysart: Moments snap together like magnets forged in a chain of shackles. Why? I can trace them, I can even with time pull them apart again. But why at the start were they ever magnetized at all. Why those particular moments of experience and no others, I do not know! And nor does ANY BODY ELSE! And if "I" don't know, if I can "never" know, what am I doing here? I don't mean clinically doing, or socially doing, but fundamentally. These whys, these questions, are fundamental. Yet they have no place in a consulting room. So then do I? Do any of us?


    May we move closer in community with Jesus our Messiah in 2011 than ever before. 
    Amen.
     

    Thursday, September 9, 2010

    Mindshot: Life as a House


    The name of my Father is Robert Stack.  I know of one other Robert Stack, I man who was not my Father.  This other Robert Stack was the host of "Unsolved Mysteries".  He was a superb host for such material.  He died on May 14th, 2003.

    A very brief scene in Life as a House features a moment of breakdown that I've lived.

    In the film, a son retreats to his girlfriend's house after being dealt a blow; his father has terminal cancer.  He knocks on the door, asks to see the girl, and stumbles into house.  The girl, at the top of the stairs, asks him what's wrong.  He desperately seeks her embrace.  He hurries up the starts, but the weight of his trauma is too much.  He collapses mid-stairway ascension, breaking into sobs.

    Like I said, I've lived that.

    On May 14th, 2003, Robert Stack died.  I was watching television that evening and heard the report.  Obviously, such a headline catches my attention, for it is not every day that a Stack makes the news.  But there was no relation between our family and this Robert Stack, so I paid little attention to it.

    Now, my family has always been a pet family.  Our animals are our people... our kin even.  At that point in time my Mother was breeding Persian cats and we had a young puppy that my Dad was currently, on this evening, out taking for a stroll.

    Around 9pm, from downstairs, I hear my Mother scream.  It was one of those screams that you know instantly something awful has happened.  As soon as you hear that sound from a loved one, there's no going back.  Adrenaline rush.  Fight or flight.  Something is changing deeply.

    After the scream, the story worsens, for that is when my Mother bellows, gutturally, "He's dead!"

    Panic ensues.  My mind slips to the news report.  Robert Stack.  That's my Father's name.  Perhaps the newscasters got it wrong.  Could it be that Dad died?  My Father!


    I bolt to the staircase.  My Mother catches my eye and we lunge at one another.  She only makes it one, maybe two steps.  She sobs, her body strewn out on the stairs.  I try to comfort her, but how... my mind and body is in shock.  She is writhing there on the stairs while my mind slowly becomes entrenched in one of those profoundly existential experiences.  I thought to myself, 'So this is what that moment is like -- the moment you lose a family member.'

    This is where my story and Life as a House diverge.

    Between moans, my Mother lets out, "I killed him... the cat!"

    "What?"

    "The cat was in the dryer!"

    Sweet relief!  Oh how it rushes in through a wave of fragrant solace.  The Lord is good!  I'd never been so ecstatic to lose a family pet.  I patted my Mother on the head, told her it'd be alright, and after she calmed down explained to her why I was so relieved and jolly.

    Being that my Father was still out walking the dog, I happily became the default man of the house, which entailed taking care of the ol' Persian rug.  I will say this, the thing had a rough go of things.  His back was all busted up and his eyes had turned black from the heat.  Despite all that, I sang a song of jubilation as I buried the poor critter that night.

    My Father, Robert Stack, is not dead.  Remembering such 'near death' experiences is nostalgic for me.

    I would like to hug my Father right about now.  Eh, I'll just be content knowing he's alive, probably walking the dog again.
    My Father, Mother, and middle Sis Julie.

    Friday, July 16, 2010

    Extraction

    The ultimate aim of all love affairs ... is more important than all other aims in man's life; and therefore it is quite worthy of the profound seriousness with which everyone pursues it.
    Arthur Schopenhauer
    (David Foster Wallace)

    I am reading a novel.  An opus.

    The novel is entitled Infinite Jest by the late David Foster Wallace.  I don't know much about the life or times of the man Wallace, but it is bitingly clear to me 500 pages into his 1100 page magnum composition that his mind belongs on the echelon of the genius.  Somewhere in the midst of the words on the various pages is a plot line involving a film that is so entertaining that it kills.  The viewer will never stop watching it.  They will loop it and loop it ad infinitum until death arises from within.  One scene spins a story about scientists discovering a product that is so stimulating, that if a rat has a choice between a button that injects them with this stimulant, and another button which will feed them, the rats choose the button which gives them the stimulus every moment.  They never choose the food.  They starve.  Even if the stimulant is taken away, the rats continue to search for it, pushing anything and everything that remotely resembles a button.  Just for the hope.  Until death.

    David Foster Wallace, writer, genius, died on September 12th, 2008, by way of suicide.  He will likely be known forever as the auteur behind Infinite Jest.

    Enter Inception - 2010.

    The first thing we must recall when recollecting this piece of work, is that bellowing low pitch horn. Can you hear it yet?  It is like some hellish alarm clock for the resurrection from the deep of some long forgotten Nephilim of old.  Remember it, and let it bounce from one side of the skull to the other.  Over and over it reverberates.  Let it roll.  Over and over.

     (The man himself - Christopher Nolan)

    Where did Christopher Nolan, the auteur of Inception, last leave us?  If I may: He left us pondering the notion of overcoming the generally banal and limited aspects of reality by contriving manipulative situations that give birth to myth.  Since he made Memento (my recollection of Following is too slight to make any comment on its philosophical worldview), Nolan has begun to tinker with the beginnings of a search for something that can be attained beyond nihilism.

    I maintain that nihilism is not a livable philosophy.  It cannot be lived through.  One is forced to off oneself, or find a 'believable' rabbit-hole to climb through.  Finally, with the birth of Inception, Nolan has set the table.  I am right.  Clearly.  Hop, hop, hop we go -- to another realm to stow.

    What makes Inception different than Nolan's previous outings: the starting world.  It appears to me that Inception begins with nihilism as the status quo.  We are deeply enmeshed within the dream world as the first fruits of escapism from the very getgo of motion.  Remember back to The Prestige, as the final lay-out reveals that the world is solid and hard.  We have to be birthed into skeptical thoughts.  In movie lore the extraordinary is presumed, and so Mr. Nolan has had to breastfeed his gnawing audience into stoic adolescence.

    (such stern resignation - Arthur Schopenhauer)  

    And if Inception begins with this unbeliefism, where does it find its end?  

    This: the good doctor leaves us with a choice (is it his own choice as well?).  We can accept the lack of.........  crap, I forgot to add this thought.

    This thought: the nihilist German philosopher (or do we just call him a skeptic?) Schopenhauer, concluded that man's desires will never be fully met.  He established that our wills, those very things that drive us towards specific goals, will not be fulfilled.  In other words, holy moments, transcendent times, and divine serendipities aren't real.  At best we are deluding ourselves when we claim contentment.  At worst we are simply lying.

     (classic 'Bard')

    Back to the this: "To be or not to be, that is the question".  Nolan echoes Shakespeare.  One option is to invent through creative means some way to prove Schopenhauer wrong.  We can be, and be in such a way that we disprove Schopenhauer's position.  We can be in order to have the holy moment.  We can be, in order to live for the ecstatic transcendence of something totally other.  Or, we can die.

    Inception offers that choice, and I do believe it is a very real choice, that suicide is a possible answer to the riddle.  If only we knew what the answer to the riddle was solving.

    I suspect that Nolan is a prophet of our general cultural consciousness.  We will turn our eyes in the coming years ever more to the limitlessness of the human mind.

    It's all so exciting.  God have mercy on us.