Inferno I, 32 by Jorge Louis Borges

"From the twilight of day till the twilight of evening, a leopard, in the last years of the thirteenth century, would see some wooden planks, some vertical iron bars, men and women who changed, a wall and perhaps a stone gutter filled with dry leaves. He did not know, could not know, that he longed for love and cruelty and the hot pleasure of tearing things to pieces and the wind carrying the scent of a deer, but something suffocated and rebelled within him and God spoke to him in a dream: “You live and will die in this prison so that a man I know of may see you a certain number of times and not forget you and place your figure and symbol in a poem which has its precise place in the scheme of the universe. You suffer captivity, but you will have given a word to the poem.” God, in the dream, illumined the animal’s brutishness and the animal understood these reasons and accepted his destiny, but, when he awoke, there was in him only an obscure resignation, a valorous ignorance, for the machinery of the world is much too complex for the simplicity of a beast.

Years later, Dante was dying in Ravenna, as unjustified and as lonely as any other man. In a dream, God declared to him the secret purpose of his life and work; Dante, in wonderment, knew at last who and what he was and blessed the bitterness of his life. Tradition relates that, upon waking, he felt that he had received and lost an infinite thing, something that he would not be able to recuperate or even glimpse, for the machinery of the world is much too complex for the simplicity of men."

A Serious Man (2009)

Larry Gopnik is a very serious man indeed. Or at least, he tries awfully hard to be. But Larry doesn't seem to be in on the great cosmic joke, despite the fact that its at his expense.

The Cohen brother's latest film, A Serious Man, is a very personal film. Certainly for the brothers, who grew up in a Jewish community in Minneapolis during the 60's, but I meant for all of us. It asks the questions that, in our most desperate hours, we all lie awake at night whispering to ourselves, "Why me? What have I done to deserve this?" And for the character of Larry Gopnik, a Jewish physics professor at a Minneapolis college, the answers to these questions appear to be...nothing. Larry's wife announces suddenly that she wants a divorce, his tenure is being threatened by anonymous vilifying letters, a disgruntled student seems to be attempting to blackmail him, And yet there are no answers, even from his rabbis, that can satisfactorily explain why.

Larry tries so hard to live righteously and his sense of moral compass is strong throughout the film. He understands his duty to his family, his institution, and his religion, but it begins to give way under all the trials he endures: his dreams become erotic and violent, and finally he is forced to face the greatest temptation: to try and erase one problem with another.

The film itself is full of uncertainty. We are unsure as an audience when to laugh or when to cringe. The film begins with a prologue which establishes this are the film's central question: what can man be certain of? and how does the reality that can be seen and experienced, what man often claims as "truth", give way to his superstitions and metaphysical beliefs?

I have heard it said that the Cohen bothers are the quintessential postmodern filmmakers. But I wonder if this film is about the clash of post-modern thought and the Jewish tradition, or more simply about the idea of logic versus faith. As a professor of physics, Larry understands all the math; math can be contained in its own world, the world of theory and the page. However, once the math is released from these confines, when the math leaps off the giant chalkboard, when Schodinger's cat breathes air, and the apparent 'randomness' and 'paradoxes' that plague his mathematical theorems come to life, Larry is left drowning in a sea of questions he does not have the answers to. Like why God would allow us to question without ever giving us the answers.
It has been remarked that A Serious Man is simply a retelling of the Biblical story of Job. While the story may be the same, the message is not. Larry, like Job, has everything taken from him with no apparent reason why. As a Christian, I always struggled with the book of Job. Would would God allow bad things happen to good people, the serious men of this world?

I remember hearing a professor speak on the book of Job. I will never forget what he said. He warned that perhaps when we, like Job, are too focused on pondering the problem of evil that we do not fathom the problem of grace. For Christians, this grace and salvation are not things we earn, but things we are given, as a free gifts from the God who loves us more deeply than we could possibly comprehend. We do not deserve it in any possible way and the good acts we do are not a means of obtaining salvation, but a means of demonstrating our joint reception of the promises of God in Christ. However, because all men have fallen short of God's glory, judgement can fall upon us just as swiftly. Larry does not choose to look upon God as an almighty savior, but simply as an aggressor. Perhaps this is where Larry's and Job's stories diverge. Larry's story ends where it began, in uncertainty. But Job, through his recognition of the sovereignty of God is restored beyond his previous blessings.

But I think, despite his rather laughable way of stating it, that the Junior Rabbi was the closest to being right; that perhaps we just need to change our perspective. That God may not provide us with the direct answers to the conundrums of our individual situations, but that God has provided us with the evidence of His divine nature and power. Its not enough just to sit and contemplate the problem of evil, when we should in fact be contemplating the problem of grace. That although disaster may come like a great unstoppable tornado, we have to trust that the God who gives us this grace will get us through the storm.

To Show You What You Mean To......

Merry Christmas!

This makes me laugh every time....
(Courtesy of www.harkavagrant.com/)

The Third Man (1949)

With the summer finally here (and with more time now available to me) I have decided that I will try my hand at writing some film reviews. I love watching films, making films and intelligently discussing them, so I figured that I should refine my ability to cohesively write about them as well. Here goes.

What is the value of human life? In post-World War II Vienna, the answer seems to be "cheap." However, Carol Reed's film "The Third Man" does not discuss this idea within the context of the brutality of warfare itself, but in terms of a man's sense of morality. Man himself becomes cheap if he is willing to see the lives of fellow human beings as simply a figure on a page or a dollar in his pocket. We love the film's naive hero Holly Martins (incomparably played by Joseph Cotton) because he realizes that morality is much more complex than what is in the westerns novellas he writes; he begins by caring only about the death of his friend Harry Lime, but realizes that he needs to care about so much more. A friend tells Martins, "The world doesn't make any heroes outside of your stories." Maybe he's right. Maybe the world doesn't make heroes. But that doesn't mean Martins shouldn't decide to become one.

Essentially, the film is about Martins, who has come from America to post-war Vienna to find a childhood friend (Lime) who has offered him a job. He arrives to find Lime has been killed in an automobile accident. The British police tell him to forget the whole matter and return to America, warning him that the situation is much more dangerous that Martins is willing to believe. However, something doesn't add up, and eventually Martins concludes that Lime has been murdered. He follows the trail, but it leads him somewhere that everyone warned him not to go. Eventually, Martins must choose a side and come face to face with who his friend truly was: to choose the fierce loyalty of Lime's girlfriend, or to side with the truth. As I watched the film again, a friend suggested that the famous Ferris wheel scene depicts the moral rise and fall of Lime; we look down on the crowd as he does, seeing things from his perspective ("Nobody thinks in terms of human beings. Governments don't. Why should we?"), but ultimately, we end where we began. Nothing has changed.

As an artist, whenever I see a photographer who uses an excessive number of Dutch angles in their work, it comes off as desperate and amateurish. However, watching this film reminded me that before the gratuitous use of the Dutch angle in Myspace profile pictures, it was a powerful tool used masterfully by filmmakers like Reed. Almost every shot in "The Third Man" is at an angle, albeit sometimes very slight. The effect is sometimes dizzying, but always disorienting, which despite intuition, does not hamper the film with unnecessary confusion, but builds the audience's sense of unease. In the same way, the lighting in this film is haunting and possesses an otherworldly strangeness. One is often frightened of the night because of the engulfing darkness, but Reed almost makes you more frightened of the light: buildings luminescent like glowing skeletons, shadows that loom larger than life, and just enough dark to conceal oneself in shambles of the crumbling city.

Perhaps even more poignant, is the music in this film. I must admit that I had never listened to zither music before, but I think now I will never be able to look at it the same way. The score (performed by Anton Karas) haunts you long after the film has ended (the first time I watched it, I was humming the theme for the next few days). The music, as Roger Ebert states, "is jaunty but without joy, like whistling in the dark. It sets the tone; the action begins like an undergraduate lark and then reveals vicious undertones." Could not have said it any better. The elements of this film, the acting, the cinematography, and the music, all unite in a perfection that is undeniable. Personally, I can find no fault.

Time Machine

He paused for just a moment. Until this point his rough hands had been furiously laboring to finish this delicate mechanical operation. The sweat dripped from his brow and stung his eyes. As he wiped his reddened cheek on his shirtsleeves, he suddenly realized how warm it had become in the room despite the November chill. He threw off his waistcoat and violently flung open the window. A gust of cool wind shot through the room. He closed his weary lids and allowed the wind to cool his distempered mind. For an instant he longed to forget it all, to abandon his project. Somewhere in the back of his mind he still longed for the position and acclaim he had once enjoyed before accident had occurred. But he knew that could never be. He remembered why he worked so diligently. He felt a surge of longing and courage course through his soul and he turned to resume his project only to realize that the candles had gone out. He hastily shut the window and relit only the candles most necessary to continue his task for he knew that he must work in earnest now. A few hours passed as he strove for completion. At last he picked up the wrench and finished tightening the final cogs. It was ready… he hoped. He tenuously turned each crank to the appropriate settings. Once the machine was set, all he could do was wait for the appropriate window of opportunity. The last few years had been an agony; waiting before they could be reunited, but this torment had only served to heighten his sense of diligence and not to weaken his resolve. Now that this night’s work was done, he picked up his fountain pen and a clean sheet of paper. He knew he must write a letter, just in case he did not survive the journey. He scribbled some nonsense about the division of the heart and the distance of time, but he knew it was no use: he could not explain what he felt through the pen and ink. He crumpled this sheet and began another, but he disliked this one as much as the last. Finally, he settled on one draft that was adequate in his mind, and proceeded to add his seal and then safely stow ed it in the inside pocket of his coat, which lay neatly across the back of his chair. He gently lifted his pocket-watch off the desk. There were only a few minutes left now. His agitation became more and more intensified until he could do nothing else but pace about the study. His overly heightened senses perceived a muffled noise. Without a second thought, he donned his waistcoat, coat and hat, and felt inside the breast pocket to ensure the letter was still there. He froze and waited silently. It was only a horse and carriage passing by outside. In disappointment he began to take off his hat, when suddenly, it began. A flash of white light lit every corner of the room and a low rattling noise shook the floor. Despite the piercing light, he was able to see the faint outline of an entrance and he knew he would just be able to power his machine and step across the threshold. He reached across the desk and threw of the final switch. An even deeper rumbling began that shook his very being. All his previous fears came flooding back to his mind: would his machine work like it did the last time? would he survive the dross-dimensional journey? And, most importantly, could love survive the test of time? He was unsure, but there was one thing he was certain of: she was waiting, and he could not disappoint. He glanced towards Heaven, stepped into the light, and was gone.

:::::::: This is my most recent 3-D design art project. I'll post a few more of my projects from this class soon. Feel free to comment or critique.

Another Squire's Tale

For our pull question on the Canterbury Tales, our class had the option of writing a tale of our own concerning the questions of marriage proposed by Chaucer. In class we discussed whether marriage kills the idealization of the beloved, so behold my sad attempt at answering this idea through my even sadder poetry skills. Enjoy!

In days of yore, while Arthur led the Knights of the Table Round,
When lady loves received vows of love profound,
There lived a timid squire, of scrawny stature and ruddy cheek
Whose voice was scarcely audible, his manner very meek.
This bashful youth would oft appear in the good King’s court
And with the noble gentry to consort.
Yet women-folk he did admire from afar,
Too gentle was the squire to approach them who are
In his opinion, of gracious spirit and superior wit
Who he could match but for a whit.
The women would gather and speak in a hush
While our goodly squire would stammer and blush.
However, till that time he’d never met one
To whom the strings of his heart were undone.
He’d stutter and start, he’d sputter and smirk
And yet, each one of these women would irk
His sensitive conscience and opinion, it’s true!
Preventing him to either marry or woo.
On Michaelmas day, this squire of tender years,
His trepidation to soon disappear,
Arrived at the court in proper pomp and stance
To view the courtly ladies all askance.
He was about to leave the murmuring throng
When he noticed, she to the heavens belong,
A woman of great stature and grace,
That his heart did but burst and flow to his face.
Her manner, her words, ay! Heaven above!
He knew in that instant that she was his love.
Were she carved out of marble, her perfection’s not matched,
All other collations the squire dist dispatch.
She was resplendent, a goddess, a lover,
And just as the stars in the heavens above her,
In her, the light of her Maker dist shine,
Mortal and divine beauty forever did twine.
Our squire, overcome with devotion to the lady,
Knew his heart to be bound to hers already.
The only obstacle that lay between him and his prize
Was to capture her fancy. So a plan to devise
The squire’s goal came to be, to gain
A love she might otherwise feign.
Each day he wrote sonnets and tied them with string
And each new day he would secretly bring
A new song through which of his love he would speak
And mention his courage and manly physique.
The lady would read this poetry and constantly sigh
And to pine for her brave hero she madly would cry,
“Where art thou, O lover divine?
You’ve given your heart, I might give you mine!
How brave and how manly and robust you sound,
With the wreathes of the gods you must surely be crowned.”
This lady’s maid knew of the verses
And rebuked her mistress with long, drawn out curses:
“You know not who this man be, or how he dost look
Wait not to reject him till your heart he does rook.
How foolish you are not know your love now
And wait till you’ve sealed your fate in marriage vow.”
The lady would have non of her maid’s prattle
And went off instead to write her own verses that’ll
Return her deep passion and continue this farce,
And proclaim her own virtues, which by troth were not sparse.
And so in her verse she hath promised to conjoin
With him in matrimony, their hearts to adjoin.
So squire and lady arranged through letters a day
They might be wed, much to her maid’s dismay.
The maid would rant and rave about the dangers of this plan
But the lady could see no fault with her man.
When the day of the wedding did finally arrive,
The squire knew nothing could now deprive
Him of his wife, his perfect idol, his star!
Even if he had only viewed her from afar.
So he put on his armor at leopard’s fast pace
With his sword at his side, and helmet over face.
His heart was a flutter for his lady all in white,
That he felt himself to be no longer a squire, but a knight.
She approached him with her face all aglow
And because of her love asked him timidly to show
The face and the form he had written so much about
The image to which she had been so devout.
But the wedding began before he could say naught
So that she might know who he is as she ought.
The nuptials now done, it was time to reveal
And soon to break each others’ ideal.
She pulled back her veil and with helmet off head,
They moved into kiss, but, alas, what instead?
A scrawny young squire of equal her years,
Yet all infatuation dist then disappear.
At the sight of his lady so angry and distressed
He knew that she was not the type of lady he meant to impress
For she seemed more concerned with outward appearance
Than with his poetry, love and strict perseverance.
They protested and cried, ranted and screamed
But the marriage was valid, or so the Church deemed.
The maid wildly cackled and said, “So I thought!
My lady and gent, what lessons you’ve been taught!”
His image of her, and her image of him
Were broken, and their outlook seemed grim
But the couple, resigned to their simple fate,
Decided to see if love they could create.
Each new day they would meet and discuss,
And so very often their meetings went thus:
A small salutation, a nod or a bow,
Then their own thoughts and ideas avow.
Some days she’d be shrewish, some days he a bore,
But after some months, they began to adore,
Overcoming the small faults seen in each other
That they finally knew they couldn’t seek another
To love or to cherish, to have and to hold,
The true image of beloved they now could behold.
For the first time they saw woman and man as meant to be seen,
The good times and bad, and all in between.
The false image destroyed had been restored by truth,
Patience, obedience and the passion of youth.
Yet think not this love will die with the years
As the couple that marries dost often fears.
By Heaven no! Their love hath lived on,
For by their own understanding was drawn
A marriage that would rise like the glorious sun,
And now I must think my tale is now done.
Be wary of lies, of false lovers, be sure!
In order that your love might endure.

Jerry and Perry?

After watching the Gammy Awards a few weeks ago, this comparison suddenly popped into my head this afternoon:

It's kinda absurd. And kinda disturbing. And no, I'm not talking about Jerry....

Katy Perry is a reincarnation of this scene from Scared Stiff, straight down to the bad vocals and the rather frightening, and yet highly laughable channeling of Carmen. 

They both kinda make me want to go buy a fruit salad for desert. 

Terrible Good?

Why are we scared of happy endings as film goers (or even readers of "modern" literature)? Why are we scared of sad endings too? I guess a more legitimate question is why are we afraid of an ending that is appropriate? I mean, obviously, sometimes in the course of a story it is evident whether it will end happily, or not, but I find that quite often, endings are tacked on to coerce the audience into feeling a certain way. Sometimes the "hero" doesn't deserve to win because in reality, he's a good for nothing jerk. But he wins anyways because it makes us feel good. And sometimes, the hero is one who deserves to win, but loses anyways (an sometimes, this is done simply to evoke our unmerited tears). I think Victor Hugo's The Hunchback of Notre Dame and its subsequent film adaptations are a viable example of what I'm trying to say. The book is a tragic examination of bourgeois life in 15th century France, and in particular, the tragedy of true love, ending in the deaths of many of the story's protagonists. Then why is it that most film adaptations have the heroic Quasimodo victorious at the end? Why are we afraid to reveal what the story is really about? Any other ending seems unnatural. It seems simulated to invoke warm fuzzy feelings that should not exist within the context of that particular story.

I guess when it gets down to it, I'm sick of inappropriate endings. Every story has an ending that is naturally resolved through the telling of the story itself. I'm not much of a writer (obviously. hence this convoluted post), but I've written enough to grasp the idea that a story sorta takes a life of its own, and to alter its course in order to suit your own needs just seems wrong. When you change a story like Hunchback of Notre Dame to create a joyous triumph, is it really Hunchback of Notre Dame anymore? Or have you created something entirely new? Neither? Both? ug. Why is it we crave happy endings and then are left unsatisfied by them in the end? Why is is that we reject happy endings in order for a film to fuel our own self-indulgent needs? Why are we scared of a good ending? Not a happy one, not a sad one necessarily, but a good one. Even if that good might just be terrible.

Random Awesome

I am so drawing awesome mustaches on my all of my pencils!!!

(next time I get plain wood ones that is)

Ideals of Beauty

"All of us Karamazovs are like that, and in you [Alyosha], an angel, the same insect [sensuality] lives and stirs up storms in your blood. Storms, because sensuality is a storm, more than a storm! Beauty is a fearful and terrible thing! Fearful because it's undefinable, and it cannot be defined, because here God gave us only riddles. Here the shores converge, here all contradictions live together. I'm a very uneducated man, brother, but I've thought about it a lot. So terribly many mysteries! Too many riddles oppress man on earth. Solve them if you can without getting your feet wet. Beauty! Besides, I can't bear it that some man, even with a lofty heart and the highest mind, should start from the ideal of the Madonna and end with the ideal of Sodom. It's even more fearful when someone who already has the ideal of Sodom in his soul does not deny the ideal of the Madonna either, and his heart burns with it, verily, verily burns, as in his young, blameless years. No, man is broad, even too broad, I would narrow him down. Devil knows what to make of him, that's the thing! What's shame for the mind is beauty al over for the heart. Can there be beauty in Sodom? Believe me, for the vast majority of people, that;s just where beauty lies--did you know that secret? The terrible thing is that beauty is not only fearful but also mysterious. Here the devil is struggling with God, and the battlefield is the human heart."

-The Brothers Karamazov (Book III. Chpt. 3)

I have a feeling that this will be one of many quotes that I shall be posting from this novel. Truly amazing.

Ten

I saw my friends on Facebook trying this so I thought I would give it a go:

Ten Random Things About Me

[1] If I had to chose one "style" of clothing to wear for the rest of my life, it would be steampunk. totally.
[2] I would like to adopt a greyhound someday.
[3] I think Henry Tilney is one of the best literary characters. I named my car after him. :D
[4] I'm trying to learn Japanese. It may take longer than I thought.
[5] I love acting. If I thought I could make money doing it, I would totally become a professional actress.
[6] I used to be one of the shortest people in my class. Then I hit Junior High....
[7] Art and film are two of my passions.
[8] I'm allergic to cats, which is problematic because I actually really like cats.
[9] I am a Trekie. Star Trek: The Original Series is freaking awesome.
[10] I like to sing and dance while doing the dishes.

Nine Places I've Visited

Washington D.C
Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada
San Francisco
Virginia
Atlanta, Georgia
Minneapolis
Monterey, California
Bakersfield, California!!!!!
ummm..... Los Angeles, California..... can you tell I haven't traveled much?


Eight Things I Want to Do Before I Die

#1 Find an occupation that I love
#2 Find an awesome and Godly man to share my life with
#3 Live in England because of the rain.... and the awesome accents...
#4 Perform a lead role in a Shakespeare play
#5 Travel somewhere by train
#6 Shout from the top of a really tall building
#7 Hand-feed a wild animal
#8 Participate in a flash-mob event

Seven Ways To Win My Heart

one. Love the Lord with all your heart
two. Laugh (a lot).
three. Be willing to be super silly
four. Love art, film, literature and discussing all of these subjects
five. Be honest
six. Love my friends and family
seven. Play an instrument or sing

SIX.things.I.believe.in.

{1} Christ
{2} Goodness
{3} Truth
{4} Beauty
{5} Art
{6} Humanity

Five Things I'm Afraid Of

1. Failing at Life
2. Darkness
3. Asking people for favors
4. Country Music!!! AUGHH!!
5. Rather large insects

F.O.U.R. Of My Favorite Bands/Singers

1! Sufjan Stevens
2! Cat Stevens
3! Andrew Bird
4! Jethro Tull

Three Things I Do Everyday

<1> Breathe
<2> Eat
<3> Read

Two Of The Best Feelings

un. Knowing that God has not abandoned you even in your darkest hour
deux. That you have accomplished something challenging or something meaningful

One Quote to Live By

1. "To serve any discipline of art is to affirm meaning, despite all the ambiguities and tragedies and misunderstandings which surround us." - Madeline L'Engle

Rest in Peace

Patrick McGoohan

(March 19, 1928 – January 13, 2009)

May his legacy live on. Be seeing you.

A Few Reflections on Love

"If i loved you...then i would love you in any way that i could and if we could not touch then i would draw strength from your beauty and if i went blind then i would fill my soul with the sound of your voice and the contents of your thoughts until the last spark of my love for you lit the shabby darkness of my dying mind..."

-Alfredo from "Pushing Daisies"

"Now, fie upon my false French! By mine honour, in
true English, I love thee, Kate: by which honour I
dare not swear thou lovest me; yet my blood begins to
flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor
and untempering effect of my visage. Now, beshrew
my father's ambition! he was thinking of civil wars
when he got me: therefore was I created with a
stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron, that, when
I come to woo ladies, I fright them. But, in faith,
Kate, the elder I wax, the better I shall appear:
my comfort is, that old age, that ill layer up of
beauty, can do no more, spoil upon my face: thou
hast me, if thou hast me, at the worst; and thou
shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and better:
and therefore tell me, most fair Katharine, will you
have me? Put off your maiden blushes; avouch the
thoughts of your heart with the looks of an empress;
take me by the hand, and say 'Harry of England I am
thine:' which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine
ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud 'England is
thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Harry
Plantagenet is thine;' who though I speak it before
his face, if he be not fellow with the best king,
thou shalt find the best king of good fellows.
Come, your answer in broken music; for thy voice is
music and thy English broken; therefore, queen of
all, Katharine, break thy mind to me in broken
English; wilt thou have me?"

-Henry from "Henry the V"

"I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night, when two thousand men are sleeping around me, many of them enjoying the last, perhaps, before that of death -- and I, suspicious that Death is creeping behind me with his fatal dart, am communing with God, my country, and thee.
I have sought most closely and diligently, and often in my breast, for a wrong motive in thus hazarding the happiness of those I loved and I could not find one. A pure love of my country and of the principles have often advocated before the people and "the name of honor that I love more than I fear death" have called upon me, and I have obeyed.
Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.
The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me - perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar -- that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.
Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have oftentimes been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.
But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night -- amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours - always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by."
Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.

-Sullivan Ballou (Ballou was killed a week later at the first Battle of Bull Run, July 21, 1861)

It only takes a moment....

Seriously, my family watched this movie today. I think it has become one of my all time favorite Pixar films. Each one of their subsequent endeavors results in something deeply moving and fantastically visually stunning. Despite being, essentially, a box with binocular eyes, Walle- expresses a wealth of emotions through the simple (and often subtle) movements of his eyes and the hums and beeps of his voice. How can you get any better than an adorable robot who has a passion for "Hello Dolly?" I ask you. The answer? Not much better. Additionally, through the animator's careful craftsmanship, you are able to connect with this little robot on so many other levels: his undying curiosity, his concern and devotion to others, his frustration, and finally his quest for true love.

I think critics of this film who complain that this film tries too hard to push an agenda are missing something magical. It's not just a film about the revitalization of Earth by being environmentally friendly (which is definitely important for our generation to hear), but about the wonderfully sweet romance between Wall-e and Eve. In the film, when it comes down to it, Eve is willing to sacrifice her directive to save Wall-e. And although he reminds her of her duty, I think this is an important point. We can't simply think about saving humanity without thinking about the individuals who need our help. Maybe I'm missing something or reading too much into it, but I think that is one of the most important messages that this moving film communicates. Plus, those who think that its "Go Green!" message ruins their perception of the rest of the film, I would ask you first to reconsider why you are so perturbed by this message. It's important for us to be good stewards of our world and to do our part to make the world clean and habitable. The Captain in the film points out that its not about just surviving, its about living and that though there may be some costs, we should still strive to make our world, or more simply our lives better. I'm glad to see a children's movie saying something so meaningful. Secondly, I would implore you to watch the film again and enjoy the interactions between its two main protagonists.... so sweet. Please. It only takes a moment....

Emmanuel Has Come!

Veni, veni Emmanuel!
Captivum solve Israel!
Qui gemit in exilio,
Privatus Dei Filio,
Gaude, gaude, Emmanuel
Nascetur pro te, Israel.
Veni, veni o oriens!
Solare nos adveniens,
Noctis depelle nebulas,
Dirasque noctis tenebras.
Gaude, gaude Emmanuel
Nascetur pro te, Israel.

Veni, veni Adonai!
Qui populo in Sinai
Legem dedisti vertice,
In Maiestate gloriae.
Gaude, gaude Emmanuel
Nascetur pro te Israel.

Merry Christmas to you all. Praise Christ on this glorious day.

Where there's a whip, there's a way!

Okay. I know. I post a lot of youtube videos here. But there are so many horrifically wonderful things that I just cannot help sharing with you all. I promise to post something meaningful soon. But in the mean time.....
If my last post didn't scare the wits out of you, BEHOLD!!!! From the 1980 Rankin-Bass animated Return of the King, the orcs singing "Where there's a whip, there's a way":


Catchy, isn't it?! AUGHHHH!!!! It's been haunting Marisa and I for the last two days!!!! I think I'm slowly going insane... hahaHAHAHAffughejrngjefbvekbsibfhefihgejbfbbjjfvjdbkjbkjkkkkkkkkkkkkk............... woah. Alright, I'm back. ehehm. Seriously, go watch this whole movie. It follows the books pretty closely, but the music and the animation style are just plain frightening. So. Frightening. You'll understand once you watch it, but I nearly died when I read one comment about Denethor that said "And so we discover that Snowwhite's witch didn't really disappear.. she became Denethor." So as a bonus!!!!


Now you must watch the whole thing. You try to look away, but it calls your name... heehee.....

It wasn't the drugs....

It was this. Oh, The Sixties.... this is what made you so trippy....

I am feeling sickly and this absolutely just made my night. Words cannot express how absolutely amazing this is. If you do nothing else with your evening, watch this. It is life changing!!! Ok, maybe not, but it comes pretty close.

Elementary, Dear Watson!

So, I'm not really sure how I came upon this, but earlier today I found out that director Guy Ritchie is in the process of shooting a new film adaptation of the beloved Sherlock Holmes mysteries set to release in 2009. Now, while I have absolutely no objections to Robert Downey Jr. (I deeply respect his talent and skill), or to Jude Law, but as the brilliant detective and his astute doctoral companion, I just REALLY do not think that they are adequate:


In fact, it kinda makes me very indignant. I think this is mostly because I am a purist. Yes, a purist to the written works themselves, but also to the flawless portrayal of Holmes' character by the incomparable Jeremy Brett.


Jeremy Brett (seen above with the amazing David Burke as Doctor Watson [later replaced by the equally as astounding Edward Hardwick]) is the definitive Sherlock Holmes. It seems almost superfluous to try and recreate the character of Holmes when it has been already imagined and realized so perfectly. I just feel that Downey and Law will be unable to meet the precedent Brett and Hardwick set long before....
However, as the great detective said himself, "The temptation to form premature theories upon insufficient data is the bane of our profession.” So perhaps I shall just have resign myself to believing that maybe it won't be as horrific as I think it is going to be.....

Pushing of the Daisies

Last year, thanks to the promptings of a good friend, I discovered the magic of the television show Pushing Daisies. It is a truly magical series, filling your heart with beauty, warmth, love, and a delicious cherry filling. The show centers around one sad and lonely young man, Ned (played by the ridiculously adorable Lee Pace, who is also in my current favorite movie The Fall), who discovers at a young age that he has the power to bring dead things back to life. However, he also discovers that once he brings that dead thing back to life, he can only let it live for one minute or some other living thing in the near vicinity must die in its place. Also, if he ever touches the resurrected thing again, it would die forever, never to be brought back. He teams up with private investigator Emerson Cod who has discovered Ned's secret, and they solve murders by resurrecting the victims for one minute in order to get clues or identifications. The real plot twist comes in when Ned's childhood sweetheart, Chuck (or Charlotte Charles) has been murdered and he chooses to resurrect her for more than a minute, essentially giving her a second chance at life. The only thing is... they can't touch, otherwise he will have killed love of his life! Augh!

But cute-ness ensues. :)

Besides the witty writing, and the endearing characters, the visual aspects of this show are astounding. Every episode is filled with "Tim Burton-esque" aesthetics that give the audience a sense of wonder and playfulness. I highly recommend borrowing or buying the first season (though it was cut prematurely short by the writer's strike) and watching the second season on Wednesdays at 8pm on ABC. While its still on in any case. I just saw on the news that ABC has cut this show from their lineup next year. After the current season, Pushing Daisies will be gone. Finito. Good-bye-o. Adios. Sayonara. I am severely distressed. This show is a breath of fresh air amongst the otherwise toxic waste dump known as TV programming. GRRRR!!!!! I am... just.... so sad...