It's that time: the best of the year

While most critics are busy compiling their lists for the year’s best films of 2008, if you’re like me and 1) have small children 2) have a very limited budget and/or 3) live in a city where many films either aren’t released yet or ran for one week in one theater and you couldn’t make it, most likely for reasons #1 or #2, then like me you’ll be lucky to see 2 or 3 of the best films of the year before the Academy Awards time.

So instead of creating my top 10 films of 2008, like an amateur critic, I’ll post my top 10 films of 2007, which has its benefit of giving me a whole extra year to see and consider my picks. It also means they’re ALL immediately available on DVD, so you don’t have to wait to see them if you happened to have missed one.

1. There Will Be Blood

If you had asked me a year ago I would have ranked this film #2. But having watched it a second time, which I think everyone needs to watch this film at least two times, I thought it nudged my other pick back to #2. I think this is a film scholars and historians will watch and study, and that history will show to be one of the best films in American cinema. For more read my review on it.

2. No Country for Old Men

The Coen Brother’s faithful and flawless adaptation of the excellent novel by Cormac McCarthy. This film along with TWBB are not just two of the best films of the year or of the decade, but I think will prove to be the best in history. I can’t believe they came out the same year. I plan to post a review on this film someday.

3. Eastern Promises

David Cronenberg’s gangster film displays the talent he cultivated making sci-fi and horror films in the 1970s through the 1990s with his idiosyncratic blend of the corporal and the technological. He’s the master of the intellectual gory shlock film, and his latest film along with A History of Violence are a successful foray into new territory, working in a genre which may finally bring him some renown, as critics will actually acknowledge the gangster film as “serious.” The writing is solid, the cinematography is gorgeous, the colors rich with depth and Viggo Mortensen’s performance would have won an Oscar in almost any other year, at least one not dominated by Daniel Day Lewis.

4. Zodiac

This is a film that I think slipped under the radar because it was released so early in the year, and by the end of the year there was an unusual excess of good films being released. It was directed by David Fincher and should have been nominated for best film. Strangely enough Fincher may get a nominations this year for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, when I believe Zodiac is a superior film. Go figure. The film is stylish and the cinematography is stunning.

5. Snow Angels

A small drama by David Gordon Green, the young master of the independent film. The film has an excellent script, great acting and it’s not over-done. It’s simple and powerful. My immediate reaction to the film was that it was the antidote to Gone Baby Gone.

6. Atonement

The first half of this film was simply amazing. I thought the second half stumbled a bit, but I loved the ending. Excellent writing and acting.

7. Michael Clayton

Great performance by George Clooney. The film is stylish and taut.

8. Ratatouille

Pixar’s animation is beautiful and the film is hilarious for kids and adults. Everyone needs to see this film, especially all foodies.

9. Once

The best musical film I’ve seen in a long time. The soundtrack is amazing and the style makes sense given the nature of the characters. The plot is very loose and improvisational which works because the centerpiece of the film is the music and the musicians/characters.

10. Juno

A film that is both funny and tender. The writing is strong as is the acting.

2007 was an excellent year for film. It was difficult to make a Top 10 list because I was forced to leave out over a dozen films I really wanted to see in the list including Charlie Wilson’s War and The Savages (ha, ha...some honorable mentions). Last year I had a tough time trying to pick which films I wanted to see in the theater and which ones I could wait to see on DVD.

2008’s list may be difficult for the exact opposite reason. Over Thanksgiving I wanted to see a movie in theaters with a friend, but we didn’t go because there was not a single thing playing that looked even remotely decent. However, I will note there are a handful of films out now that I really want to see and several more that haven’t been released in our city, so I’m hoping it won’t be too tough to find at least 10 good films this year. But there certainly doesn’t appear to be the volume of last year’s.

Not Quite a Film Review: Encounters at the End of the World

I've been trying to write a film review of Werner Herzog's Encounters at the End of the World (2008), but it hasn't coalesced, so I'll just post it as some thoughts on this film which I think everyone should see ASAP.

Although Werner Herzog claims in his latest film Encounters at the End of the World that he’s not making another movie about fluffy penguins, he does claim to be making a movie about the dreams of the people compelled to inhabit Antarctica, a cold an desolate place, but strangely enough throughout the course of the film we see that the dreams of these people may have something remarkably in common with the uncommonly deranged penguin Herzog manages to film on the frozen continent.

This film may be the best documentary of 2008, and is yet another great achievement in Herzog's oeuvre alongside his other great documentaries, which include Grizzly Man, Little Dieter Needs to Fly, and The White Diamond.

Visually the film is mesmerizing; there are numerous incredible shots of the barren glacier continent, and Herzog takes us into regions explored by few in the entire course of human history. For nearly that alone the film is worth seeing.

But the film is also a classic Herzogian composition complete with: off-beat characters whom the camera focuses on till the point it becomes just slightly uncomfortable, incredible respect for the idiosyncrasy of the individual’s story, homage to the beauty of nature, and a celebration of humanity’s insatiable curiosity.

Herzog’s juxtaposition of interview, imagery and voice-over narrative insight demonstrates the subtle irony that the consequence of science and technology, a human drive we all honor and herald--this very drive to improve on nature, to travel to places like Antarctica where humans are absurdly illequipped to thrive--is also the reason human life in its current context is unsustainable on Earth. Herzog captures the beauty and the tragedy that is this human story resounding from Antarctica with his signature acumen. His profound respect for nature and for the stories his subjects tell, whether they are a world renown scientist or a working class welder, and his obsessive dedication to portraying them as cinematically accurately as possible reminds of a passage from Nabokov’s Pale Fire which I slightly revised to fit a different context: but sometimes when the director paced back and forth across the set, or sat down for a moment on his chair, or yelled “cut” to go mediate in his trailer, I could distinguish the expression of passionate interest, rapture and reverence with which he visualized the story coming to life image by image in his mind, and I knew that whatever my atheistic friend might say in denial, at that moment our Lord was with him.

What is Christian Literature?

Recently I was approached by a friend who asked me if my writing was Christian. I didn’t know quite how to respond, but I thought I’d dedicate a few blog posts to the issue. So this will be the first of probably several blogs to come on the issue.

Before I get to the issue of whether or not my writing is Christian, I thought it worthwhile to deliberate a bit more about literature in general.

It used to be the case that the church was the center for culture and the arts. This was a very long time ago before the printing press when the general population was not literate, so society relied on the church to keep record of literature. It wasn’t until various reformations, which I don’t have all the exact names for, that the church started differentiating between what they considered worldly or Christian literature. The point being that this is an archaic debate, but nevertheless one worth engaging in.

To start with I’ll pose a series of questions that are by no means exhaustive on the issue, but are just some questions that came to my mind after my conversation. Here are some of them.
One question I have with the term “Christian literature” is, if there is such a thing, is it a genre? If it is a genre then it must have some sort of generic conventions that would make it readily identifiable. What then would those be? Would it have to have a redemptive theme? Must it always have Christian characters in it or characters who turn out to be Christian by the end? Would part of its generic features be that there could be no representations of sexuality, violence, and bad language? In other words, should it be suitable for all first graders to read should they want to? Does it need to have a Christian setting? Tone? Mood? And if so what constitute such?

Other questions I have are does “Christian literature” have to be written by Christians? Does it have to be published by Christian publishers? Edited by Christians? Illustrated (if applicable) by Christians? Does it have to be marketed by Christians? Should it only be read by Christians? Sold only in Christian bookstores? Should it seek to convert non-Christians (worded differently, should it be propaganda)?

These are a lot of difficult questions to answer without having even answered a more basic question of what we mean by “Christian.” By Christian are we referring to people who read, study and try to imitate the words of Jesus Christ as reported in the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John? Can we include people who do the previously mentioned and come to the conclusion that God the Father is an utterly sovereign being completely in control and determining everything? Can we also include people who do the same and come to the conclusion that the future is open and that God the Father does not pre-determine everything? What of people who speak in tongues? Or believe tongues are dead? People who think it’s okay to smoke? Drink? Gamble? Dance? Play cards? Read John Grishom?

The point I’m getting at here is that in order to say something is Christian and something isn’t requires that we start to draw lines around “us” and “them.” While certain items may seem simple enough (we read the Bible and follow Christ’s teaching). Other things (just about any specific point of theology or practice) are not quite as simple—which is why there are an infinite array of denominations, church splits, plants, etc.

What I’ll try to do over the coming days, weeks, months, years (heck, for the rest of my life) is try to answer some of these questions. If anyone has any thoughts or guidance, feel free to chime in. I’m just doing my best to figure it all out.

Our Beacon of Hope

Could it be possible that Obama is our beacon of hope in these desperate times?

I find it ironic that his former Senate seat is the current topic of scandal and debate.

I’m not suggesting he had anything to do with it, but it’s just ironic that the space our hope left behind is a swirling disaster of corruption, greed and controversy.

I would say it’s not so much any one person as it is the entire political landscape that’s toxically corroded.

Film Review: Maria Full of Grace

If you were like me and missed the film Maria Full of Grace (2004) when it came out a few years ago, then it’s time you discover this gem at your local video store or slide it to the top of your Netflix Queue, as the case may be. This is a film of great strength and emotion. It was written and directed by Joshua Marston, his first feature film, and stars Catalina Sandino Moreno as Maria Alvarez. Despite this being Moreno’s first film performance, she was nominated for an Oscar in the category of best actress in a leading role, which was well deserved. Moreno portrays Maria, a seventeen year old girl from Bogotá, Columbia, who quits her job as a long-stem rose de-thorner after an episode of morning sickness leads to a dehumanizing confrontation with her boss. Maria’s boyfriend makes a half-hearted attempt to do what he thinks is the right thing about her pregnancy, but Maria preempts his decision by taking matters into her own hands, deciding to take a job as a drug mule and smuggle narcotics in her stomach (where now metaphorically life and death simultaneously reside) into the United States. What’s great about Moreno’s performance, as well as the writing of Maria’s character (the screenplay), is that it explores Maria as a pawn of poverty, circumstance and large scale corruption without reducing her to a stereotype or victimizing her character. Instead Maria displays quiet strength: she’s the one who “dumps” her boyfriend, and she’s the one who quits her job. These examples show Maria as a person who has the emotional strength to cut ties before the other party has the opportunity to do so, which may partly be a sign of strength but also partly be a coping mechanism for dealing with situations that escalate beyond her control, and, indeed, there are many circumstances she’s involved in that are far beyond her control.

What makes this film so great is not only Marston’s excellent writing and the superb performance by Moreno, but also the success the film has in navigating very important contemporary topics like poverty, drug trafficking, illegal immigration, and a woman’s right to choose without ever seeming like a piece of propaganda. Rather the film does a great job of capturing the humanness of Maria, setting that up as the centerpiece of the narrative, and letting the big issues develop in the background. In other words, the film is as much about what Maria has the power to control as what she doesn’t. Along the way there are scenes of emotional intensity, and the film culminates, as the title suggests, in a moment of grace, in the quiet beauty of self-sacrifice amidst a world of greed and corruption.

From the Mouths of Babes

The other day my 3-year-old son-my middle child-said to me while we were sitting on the couch watching a cartoon, “Daddy, I don’t like girls or ladies.”

So I said, “What about your mom, do you like her?”

With great enthusiasm he said, “Sure, I like mom. I like her a lot. But I don’t like salad.”

The Storm: A Short Story

The storm started out as heavy rain. It was the kind of rain that blotted out all light, with thunder and theatrics that would have made any man in a more primitive society a believer in God. As the temperature plummeted and the night wore on, the rain turned to ice, and eventually to snow. When the storm broke late the following afternoon, six inches of snow had fallen on top of four inches of solid ice.

My wife said I was crazy to try to contest what had coated our driveway. She said the weatherman had predicted more to come. I was in the garage pulling on my boots, armed with a razor-sharp garden shovel. I told her that the sky was clear as far as I could see and that if there was more to come, it wasn’t coming anytime soon. I also told her it was a matter between man and nature, and that I couldn’t expect her to understand. She rolled her eyes and suggested my five-year-old son should probably join me then. She said it might be some sort of man-initiation thing. She rolled her eyes again. My son, who happened to be standing behind her, of course, couldn’t see she was rolling her eyes, and began pleading to go with me.

I started at the top of the driveway where the ice and snow was the shallowest and swung the shovel down, cutting through the snow and chipping the ice. My son stood several feet from me and swung in similar fashion his red plastic shovel that would have splintered against the ice into a million pieces if he could have swung with a quarter of the strength I did. He looked up at me, smiling and pawed his cheeks awkwardly with his mittened hands.

“We got a big job, huh, dad?”

“Yes, we do.”

We hadn’t been out but a minute yet.

“When we’re done maybe mom will make us hot chocolate.”

“When we’re done I’m sure mom will make us hot chocolate.”

“I sure like hot chocolate.”

“Me too, buddy.”

After an hour of chiseling and hacking, I was exhausted. My son was red cheeked and panting. I asked him if he’d had enough, and he shook his head and tossed the question back to me. Dark clouds had rolled in from nowhere. He looked like a cold, wet puppy dog, but there was fire in his eyes as he wielded his little shovel. I told him we’d finish clearing the path down to the street and then go inside.

“I’ll work over here, dad.” He gestured to a mound by the street.

“That’s good.”

My muscles ached, but as I watched my son hacking away furiously in the yard where the snow didn’t even need to be cleared away, I resolved myself not to be outlasted by a five-year-old. The remaining part of the path that needed to be cleared was at the foot of the driveway where the street plow had piled the snow up well over a foot. My toes felt frostbitten. My hands were blistered and chaffed from the wet gloves. But I managed to carve out a two-foot block of snow from the artic monolith. Then I worked the tip of my shovel underneath the giant hunk of ice and snow and leaned on the shovel with all my weight. I heard the ice cracking and finally felt it give. The wedge of ice rose up and then turned over into the street. My son ran over to me.

“Wow, dad! Let me help you throw it.” He jumped down the driveway to look closer at the dislodged ice chunk.

I took the massive frozen crater of ice in both hands, with my son skipping around trying to get his hands under the thing, and then heaved it over to the side of the drive. It landed with a loud thud, and my son clapped his mittens together noiselessly. I felt the first flakes of new snow.

“Get your shovel, and we’ll go in for some hot chocolate,” I said.

My son scampered up the bank of snow for his shovel. Once in hand, he turned toward our house and slipped on the ice. He went down face first onto the ice, rolled, and slid down the bank. I ran to him and scooped him up in my arms. His lip was bleeding, and he was crying. I carried him inside, and my wife washed the blood off his face and made a warm compress to stop the bleeding. I threw a couple logs on the fire and sifted out some of the ashes. When he finally calmed down, he sat on my lap in the recliner with a cup of hot chocolate. We watched the fire and the snow falling outside.

“Thanks for your help. You did a great job,” I said.

“You’re welcome.”

The snow was falling heavily now. It was falling good enough to have covered our path, and I thought if it didn’t relent in an hour or so our progress would be unnoticeable.

“Daddy?”

“What, buddy?”

“I know God made the snow so pretty and so much fun to play in.” He stopped. He was staring blankly out the window.

“Sure, bud. God made the snow pretty and fun.”

“But who made the snow hurt so much?”

The feeling was slowly returning to my toes. I rubbed my aching hands together, then picked up my mug and took a sip of the hot chocolate. My wife had made it with whole milk; it was rich and creamy.

“Daddy, do you think God made the snow hurt so much?”

The fire had roared back to life with the new logs. Its warmth and light filled the darkening room.