Adaptation & Blue Like Jazz

Blue Like Jazz provides a compelling case study on the process of book-to-film adaptation, as it reveals how the conversion between mediums can result, not only in losing something in translation, but in positively inverting the meaning of a text. In the book Blue Like Jazz, Donald Miller unequivocally depicts the quasi-autobiographical character Don's experiences at a secular university -- having been raised Baptist -- as a process of maturation, of being exposed to a wider world of intellectual openness and breadth, of fruitful experiences with new types of people who influence him for the better, of growing in wisdom, of coming to view his religious roots as narrow-minded and hypocritical. Because we are privy to Don's inner monologue in the book, this understanding of his journey is forcefully impressed on the reader and unmistakable. One may have suspicions (as I did) that what's really going on -- as it does for so many new college students -- is the character is succumbing to the seduction of sinful worldliness, and nothing more. The text of the book is ambiguous enough to allow that this is perhaps some minor aspect of what is occuring, but it also makes abundantly clear that ultimately what is transpiring in Don's life is good.

The translation to film is fascinating because, without Don's inner monologue constantly available, it not only becomes possible to read Don's journey as a straightforward discarding of one's faith in favor of seductive worldliness, but it positively screams to be read in this fashion. There aren't any narrative clues that anything else is happening at all, save perhaps the final 'redemptive' moments that themselves contain decidedly mixed sentiments. The film could practically be used as a Scared Straight propaganda video, showing Christian parents the soul-corrupting dangers of secular University life in modern America. While the book emphatically rejects this narrative and depicts his journey as a process of enrichening, enlightening spiritual and personal growth.

The character of Penney in the film supplies the only counter to Don's descent into effective unbelief. Her faith fuels her political activism and world-saving pretensions, without her having to always, you know, talk about Jesus and be all religiousy. Don clearly admires Penney and sees her brand of faith as more genuine and mature, but if she were an unbelieving, secular do-gooder it's hard to see what -- if anything -- would be lost about his admiration. She says she read the Bible in an ancient literature class and fell in love with Jesus, exactly as if he were some inspiring literary character and nothing more.

The final moments do acknowledge Don's grief at his having been ashamed of Christ, but this is consistent with interpreting his college experience as utterly negative and corrupting up to that point. Again, the precise opposite of what the book portrays.

This disconnect between book and film makes me curious whether this was an intentional move. It probably makes the film more pallettable for a young evagelical audience (the only crowd they could even hope to be appealing to), but it seems to radically compromise on the message of the book to such a degree that one wouldn't think Miller would be OK with it. Yet he wrote the script and was intimately involved with making the film. The only other possibility is that it was unintentional, in which case I would hypothesize it's attributable to an over-familiarity with the source material to the point where the filmmakers assume the audience has (much) more information than they've actually been given. Either way, it's a potent testament to the precarious nature of film adaptation.

'The Master' and Catholicism

I've been a big fan of Paul Thomas Anderson since Magnolia came out in 1999, and with the epic, brilliant There Will Be Blood he cemented his spot as one of the best living American filmmakers. Along with The Tree of Life, There Will Be Blood is my favorite film to come out in the last decade or so. With that in mind it should come as no surprise that I've been eagerly anticipating Anderson's latest opus The Master -- loosely inspired by the life of L. Ron Hubbard and starring Joaquin Phoenix and Philip Seymour Hoffman -- which arrives this Friday in limited release. I've already purchased my tickets for a Friday showing in Arclight Hollywood's Cinerama Dome, where the film will be presented in the 70mm format.

I've been reading some reviews and generally following the hype surrounding the film for the last few weeks. Today an interview with Anderson appeared in the Huffington Post and one bit stood out to me:

I know you were raised Catholic. Do you see similarities between Scientology and Catholicism as you're researching the film?

Not really.

There were times watching the film when I thought, Boy, Dodd is just making up any old thing, but then you're in church and they're saying stuff that got made up 2,000 years ago.

Yeah, sure, I think a lot of people can make that argument. I don't know. I don't really think about it.

There are a couple things to notice here. First is the fact that the interviewer is asking such buffoonish questions at all. What is he thinking? This is juvenile atheistic drivel of the first order. What similarities between Scientology and Catholicism, exactly? Beyond the level of the extremely superficial, there are none whatsoever. Because there are such things as quasi-religious hucksters and charlatans, therefore Christianity was the product of religious charlatans making things up? It does not follow, sir. And, as a matter of fact, such a thesis is virtually impossible to defend given the historical record and logic. Oops.

The great thing about the exchange is Anderson's curt rejection of the initial suggestion and the subsequent polite dismissal of the follow-up. This juxtaposed with all his other responses to questions, where he generously elaborated if he had even the slightest idea what the interviewer was getting at. There's something wonderful about a petty atheist extrapolating a sweeping rejection of all religion from a narrow-minded reading of a film, only to have the auteur respond with the equivalent of a blank stare.

Sorry that none of this was actually about The Master or Anderson as a director. If you're interested in that kind of thing, I'll probably be blogging about it this weekend. Stay tuned.

The Dark Knight Rises - Review

The culmination of Christopher Nolan's Batman trilogy has arisen in the form of The Dark Knight Rises. Given the critical and popular acclaim heaped upon The Dark Knight -- much (though not all) of it deserved -- expectations for the final chapter in the trilogy were at a fever pitch. The film largely rises to the occasion, with a few significant qualifiers that keep it from being an absolute masterpiece.

Following the dynamic and indelible performance by Heath Ledger as the Joker in The Dark Knight, and considering the general dark intrigue that surrounds villains as objects of speculation and hype, all eyes are on Bane this time around. An exiled member of the League of Shadows (the group led by Ra's al Ghul in Batman Begins), Bane -- a hulking wrecking-ball of a mercenary hellbent on chaos and destruction, as portrayed by Tom Hardy -- leads an underground uprising composed of Gotham's outcast and malcontent. Though the facial apparatus somewhat obstructs Hardy's ability to emote, his physical presence is dominating and fierce, and the effect produced by his ominous voice as projected through the mask is chilling -- though I'm not sure I prefer this final version of the voice over the more garbled early incarnation. Bane delivers as a cool, compelling villain, except for an event late in the film which I will come to anon.

In the wake of Harvey Dent's death as a martyr (in the eyes of the public), Gotham passed the Dent Act and cracked down on crime (one result of which is the aforementioned criminals that join Bane's uprising), and enjoyed a period of prosperity. Bruce Wayne -- sensing that Batman was no longer needed in the capacity he once was, and physically and spiritually downtrodden himself -- has gone into seclusion in the Wayne mansion and has become a bit of a recluse. But the rise of Bane represents a new need of Gotham's. 

That's the very general set-up for the film, but there's a lot more going on here. The film introduces many new characters quickly, while catching us up with old ones. The opening is a bit disorienting and demanding of the audience, but Nolan juggles the various characters and story threads deftly. I understand the desire to see a more circumscribed story, that focuses more intently on Batman and Bane for instance, though I think this is ultimately more satisfying than that approach would have been.

Especially in Batman Begins, but also in The Dark Knight to some degree, one of the few drawbacks was Nolan's choreographing and editing of action sequences. The Dark Knight had some spectacular action set pieces, but I still felt this was Nolan's achilles heel. Here he has actually improved somewhat in that regard. The set pieces are just as spectacular as in The Dark Knight and they flow more naturally and intelligibly. Fueled by Hans Zimmer's familiar and tremendous score the film is exhilarating to behold, especially in IMAX.

Nolan could easily have set his thematic and narrative inclinations on autopilot and still delivered a satisfying conclusion, but he never takes the easy path. Instead he weaves a dense tapestry of story, drawing on the well of character development in the earlier films to produce a complex and emotional climax to the series. This is part of the reason the plethora of characters doesn't feel overwhelming -- we already know Bruce, we know Alfred, we know Commissioner Gordon, and Nolan trusts the audience to engage with them on a level that connects with the previous films, rather than having to act as if this is a standalone film.

There is a powerful resonance in the image of the forces of evil -- in the guise of 'liberators' opposing the establishment, looking to institute 'justice' -- being charged by an army of cops looking to take back their city, given the clashes between Occupy and the police in the last year. Many conservative commentators have gone so far as to read the film primarily as political allegory, though I think that's a bridge too far. Clearly Nolan comes out on the side of order over chaos, and of regular people working within established institutions over world-burners and revolutionaries, while also attacking the propagandistic rhetoric of certain segments of the left and thus the film presents a nominally conservative worldview, but I don't think this theme dominates the proceedings.

Despite all the narrative brilliance, there are a couple missteps and one almost proves disastrous. The next three paragraphs will contain spoilers, so do not read ahead if you haven't yet seen the film.

One misstep is the common (but always silly) narrative device where, instead of killing the Hero when he has a chance, the Villain puts him in some sort of trap or device from which it turns out to be possible to escape. This was actually common in the Batman television show with Adam West, and perhaps in the comics as well (I never read much DC and so I can't be sure), so this could be a nod to the Batman tradition. Also, in Nolan's defense, if you ever want to imagine a scenario where the Hero is in the clutches of the Villain -- an interesting event -- it's difficult to avoid something along these lines. Still, given the grimy quasi-realist aesthetic of Nolan's Bat-iverse, you would think he would avoid this tact.

The other more serious problem is the late revelation concerning Miranda Tate. Transferring Bane's ostensible back-story to some rich, unassuming, female criminal mastermind at the last minute pulls the rug out from under the audience, to be sure, but it also turns Bane into a subordinate villain and demystifies the mythos being built around him. This wouldn't be so bad except it violates the coolness of Bane and makes the real villain just some random chick. Perhaps that's sexist of me, but I never claimed to be above petty sexism in my comic book inclinations.

At the last moment Bane becomes Darth Vader (mask and all) to Tate's Emperor (only minus the redemptive turn). I'm sure on a repeat viewing it will be interesting to watch Tate's (and Bane's, for that matter) actions and words in a new light, but it still feels a little cheap and less gratifying than if Bane had in fact been the child born into a dark hell who rose. I want that to be him. I don't want him demoted to the level of devoted and somewhat creepy henchman. That said, as much as that alters the film, and as much as I'd rather it be otherwise, the movie still succeeds. And perhaps on repeat viewings the feeling of being duped will subside.

Despite these missteps, The Dark Knight Rises still manages to soar -- literally, as The Bat, Batman's aerial vehicle, plays a big role in key sequences and in fighting the war against Bane's army. With The Dark Knight Rises, Nolan not only outpaces all the comic-book competition but also maintains his near-monopoly on challenging, intelligent, adult, blockbuster, 'event-film' entertainment.

Ridley Scott's Alien Abortion -- On Prometheus

Note: Spoilers are contained herein.

Ridley Scott's return to sci-fi after a 30 year hiatus, specifically a return to his Alien universe; facehuggers and abdomen-bursting; the mystery of the 'space jockey' revealed; themes of intelligent design and faith; Michael Fassbender as an android. Prometheus seemed as if it was specially geared to appeal to my particular aesthetic sensibility. What could possibly go wrong?

Quite a lot, as it turns out.

Though Scott bizarrely eschewed the use of the term 'prequel' in the promotional events leading up to the release, Prometheus is a prequel in virtually every sense except that none of the characters are the same. Not only does the action in Prometheus take place in "the same universe" (Scott's preferred descriptive idiom), but it takes place on the same planet as the original Alien and sets the stage for the events of that film, while sporting many of the Alien calling cards: the aforementioned facehuggers and chest-bursters; a decapitated android; insidious Weyland corp machinations; a strong female protagonist who outlasts her crew mates while aliens kill them all off etc. If Prometheus truly did share nothing but "a universe", the result wouldn't be quite so frustrating and disappointing.

This time around, though, the scope has shifted. The juxtaposition couldn't be more stark: Alien was an intimate, claustrophobic space horror with a narrow scope, while Prometheus seeks more epic pastures, expanding its concerns from the crew of a single ship to the concerns of all mankind. Though the film purports to address The Big Questions of humanity -- Guy Pearce's character helpfully explains that it does -- there really is only one 'Big Question' it addresses: the question of human (and/or biological) origins and 'creation'. While the origin of life is not a 'solved' problem, most approach the question either by positing Darwinian (or otherwise 'naturalistic') mechanisms which gave rise to primordial, single-cellular life which then evolved, or with God (or with some combination thereof). Scott ineptly fumbles the issue coming from both directions.

On the one hand, 'God' is vaguely present in the narrative in the form of the main character's -- Elizabeth Shaw's -- Christian faith (which we'll return to). The notion of God as creator is also addressed via proxy by suggesting that humanity is created by Engineers (one might say Intelligent Designers), who are 8-foot tall, pale aliens with dark eyes. One of the members of this race is the mysterious 'space jockey' from the original Alien. Of course, an intermediate, finite designer of life doesn't actually address the Big Question of life's origins because it only pushes the question back a step: who designed this designer? The film recognizes this at one point, but in so doing renders itself rather moot and impotent in the exploration of the Big Question.

On the other hand, the only appearance evolution makes is when one crew member scientist of Prometheus responds to Shaw's claim that the Engineers created human life with "Well, if you want to just throw out 3 centuries of Darwinism", which is also confused. In the opening scene of Prometheus we see one of the Engineers depositing the building blocks of life on early Earth. We can assume, from there, life then evolved. If this were the case, not a stitch of Darwinian evolution would need to be dispensed with, yet this objection comes from a scientist -- the biologist even, if memory serves. I suppose, within the world of the film, Darwinian evolution really might be bunk and the mechanisms which appeared unguided and natural were actually encoded by the Engineers, but even if this were so Darwinian theory wouldn't necessarily be wrong. The Engineers may just harness their knowledge of natural, Darwinian mechanisms to bring about a desired result. In any case, at that juncture there's no reason any intelligent scientist would think that Shaw's theory debunks Darwinism whole cloth, even if it's true.

Speaking of Shaw's theory, it provides the most cringe-inducing moment of the film. Shaw and her research partner (and husband? boyfriend? I don't recall), discover a pictogram that appears on cave drawings, inside temples, on rocks from every ancient human civilization, many of which share no common lineage or have any dealings with each other. The drawings all show the same image: humans crowded around a taller human-like figure who is pointing to a constellation of cosmic bodies. The configuration of the bodies is identical, and it happens to match some solar system which has a sun similar to ours. All of which is plenty reason to suspect the presence of an extraterrestrial intelligence, one that it appears may have communicated with our race in some mysterious way, which makes investigating the matter an obviously logical step. No problem so far. However, does this evidence suggest that we were created by the the extraterrestrial intelligence, even if it exists? No, it doesn't, yet Shaw believes that we were created by them. Can she prove this? No, but again, at this point it may not be a matter of empiricism. Fair enough. But surely she must have indicators, some line of reasoning, some sign-posts which point toward her conclusion. When one of the scientists asks her for evidence in this vein she replies "I choose to believe it is so." Oy vey.

It wouldn't even be that bad if she postulated some shaky, inconclusive argument with tenuous rational and evidential support, and then when pushed to defend it she finally resorted to her "I choose to believe it is so" line, but she couldn't even manage that, and so it comes off as if she pulled the theory directly from her hindquarters. In her position there's nothing epistemically unjustified in holding such a belief, but since she offers literally no support -- not even of the speculative, theoretical variety -- why bring it up to a team of scientists? It's a functionally irrelevant belief for the mission.

This brings us back to the theme of 'faith' in the film. Shaw wears a cross around her neck; there is one scene where a memory of hers as a child is scanned where her dad uses the "it's what I choose to believe" line; Shaw has faith in the existence of the Engineers (presumably in the same manner that she merely "chooses to believe" in God, without any real reason). Unsurprisingly, Christian 'faith' is given pretty short shrift and depicted as the impoverished, unspecific, insignificant, unreliable 'mechanism' many (falsely) assume that it is. Ironically, the film portrays faith this way, but it doesn't seem to think it's doing so derisively. After all, Shaw saves the day, is the last survivor of the crew, and her hypothesis turned out to be correct . It would appear her 'faith' -- her belief in belief -- was vindicated. And yet her faith, to the extent it is on display, is a pretty anemic, lifeless thing that isn't really worthy of praise.

And all of this, as annoying as it is, still might be overlooked if the rest of the film were good; if the characters and dialogue were compelling; if the narrative, even despite its metaphysical and scientific blunders and absurdities, was interesting; if the terror from the original Alien struck again in a new chord; if the mysteries were revealed in ways that enriched the franchise. But the film woefully misses all marks.

The worst of all of these sins is the pathetic character work. The character actions and interactions are often unbelievably absurd and nonsensical. Contrasted with the spirited, believable, and dynamic crew of the Nostromo, the crew of the Prometheus is colorful only because all of its members are exaggerated and false cliches. And the ones who aren't are indistinguishable in their dullness.

While I normally wouldn't delve into such detail, I feel a responsibility to catalog at least some of the worst offenses in this area. Some of the ones involving Shaw's character have already been covered, but what about the rest of the crew?

One of the earlier character notes is one of the more subtle offenses, but when the half-bald, half mohawk scientist decides he wants to go back to the ship rather than investigate a scene further, Shaw asks him why, and he responds by bizarrely getting in her face and screaming at her. I get that the character is supposed to be a douchebag, but this isn't what a douchebag would do in this situation. A true douchebag would ignore the question, or perhaps dismiss it with some quip. And perhaps if she pressed the issue further, accosting him, then he might explode, but this guy skipped straight to explode and it really made no psychological sense whatsoever. This is one of the more subtle character missteps in the film, but it set the tone early on for what would become a comedy of errors.

Perhaps the most significant of these is when Shaw's research partner / lover (played by the obnoxious Logan Marshall-Green), after arriving at LV223 (the planet they're investigating, and perhaps a reference to Leviticus 22:3) and discovering only Engineer corpses, resorts immediately to despondent, heavy boozing. He wanted to converse with them, you see. And since he didn't get to, time to drink. Sure, his partner is out there still in the process of collecting evidence and perhaps solving the riddle of the true origins of the human race, but yawn, yada, yada, I wanted to talk to them, damn it! Not to mention it isn't even clear that they are all dead, he's just assuming they are. In fact, as the planet is explored more thoroughly one of them is later found alive and cryogenically frozen.

Not much should need to be said about the buffoon scientist who, when coming upon an hissing alien snake-like creature, decides that it should be playfully approached as if it were a cuddly kitten.
 

Late in the film, Shaw returns to the Prometheus as the Engineer's spacecraft is preparing for take-off and informs the crew that the ship is headed to Earth to destroy humanity. It's not entirely clear how she arrived at that conclusion -- the Engineer was certainly hostile to them, but it's not obvious that he wishes to destroy the human race -- but she relays this information to the Prometheus. The Prometheus isn't a war vessel, and so the captain and two of the crew members almost immediately realize that, based on Shaw's breathless pronouncement, a kamikaze mission is in order and they happily march to their deaths. The captain had hitherto not been an exceedingly selfless or caring character, so this again rings completely false in myriad ways.

Sure, characters can be emotional, irrational and inconsistent just like people, but these characters were so in profoundly inhuman (and cliche) ways. And when you take into consideration that these are all scientists, it's even more suspect.

Michael Fassbender gives the only sympathetic performance as David, this mission's android. Which should tell you something, since he's diabolically wreaking chaos and havoc and seems to have a distinct distaste for these humans aboard the ship -- as we all do, by the end of the film.

The one thing the film does somewhat have going for it is in its mysteries, symbolism, and unanswered questions it leaves much up for debate and discussion, and so the film can serve as a good conversation piece -- if you can get past everything else. But when this thin veneer of false intrigue is draped on the skeletal frame of a film that is fundamentally, offensively unsound, it doesn't -- it can't -- enrich the film but rather serves only to distract from the lack of coherence and substance.

I could go on. And I didn't even touch on the absurd abortion sequence.

The quality of Prometheus being what it was (abysmal) and with Bladerunner 2 now in the works, one has to wonder if Scott is cashing in on his legacy. Or, perhaps, using his legacy as leverage to make more interesting films; The Counselor -- Scott's next project -- boasts a magnificent cast and a script by Cormac McCarthy. Whatever the case, as a matter of artistic integrity, Scott had no business sullying the Alien franchise with this endeavor. Go ahead and make a non-Alien sci-fi film about human origins, and maybe with the expectations, burdens, and restraints of the franchise lifted, your creative genius might just shine through. After all, much of Scott's genius was always in the creation of new worlds, and since the world of Alien already exists, his creative matrix may have just never been engaged. It's a plausible explanation anyway, and he might want to latch onto it. Otherwise one is forced to conclude he's a has-been hack in the late-George-Lucas phase of his career. One may conclude that anyway.

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CORRECTION:  I said the film takes place on the same planet as the first Alien, but it's a  different planet in the same system of planets.

The Avengers and Freedom

With the record-breaking opening weekend box office, and all the surrounding chatter and hype, I don't have much to say about The Avengers that hasn't been said already by others. In brief I will say that I think it is right near the pinnacle of the genre, alongside The Dark Knight, and that it succeeds quite well as the summer blockbuster entertainment that it aims to be. Although I also think it falters on some levels (I mostly concur with the 'cons' listed here on The Playlist), on the level of superhero spectacle, and sharp, witty character dialogue and interaction, it is at the peak of the genre. Although, aside from Nolan's Batman universe, it's not a genre I find particularly substantive or edifying, offering mostly transient pleasures, and so you should take the praise somewhat lightly.

With that out of the way, I will confine my comments to a couple narrow observations on small aspects of the film, and offer (perhaps) a somewhat unique focus so as not to trod well-worn areas of comment.

I found Loki -- Thor's brother, the central villain -- to be a a somewhat lackluster heel, but his philosophy did interest me somewhat. Loki says he wants to free humanity from freedom; that the rat race of modern life is degrading and dehumanizing; that humanity, at its core, craves subjugation. All this, according to him, is the reason we should accept his rule over us. Well, as totalitarian and demented as this thinking is, he is onto something.

Though Loki's conception of the solution to the problem is perverse, human beings were created with an orientation toward an ultimate end. Contra the modern model of freedom that focuses on unrestrained voluntarism, true freedom is the freedom to have our will transformed into God's will that we would be conformed to Christ's image. The modern, secular model of freedom has no real 'content' of its own, it is just the absence of coercive or oppressive forces operating on the will. While true human freedom has a purpose and a goal. As David Bentley Hart says, "We are free not because we can choose, but only when we have chosen well." Choosing to do other than what God desires for our lives is, in fact, enslaving. So Loki's seemingly demented ravings actually have a significant kernel of truth in them (the devil's lies always do). 

One other thing I wanted to briefly comment on is when, in response to someone saying that Thor and Loki are "practically gods", Captain America retorts "there's only one God, ma'am, and I'm pretty sure He doesn't dress like that." It's a good line, and it's refreshing to hear in the context of a major blockbuster, as God becomes more and more taboo in our culture. However, even this line can only believably come from the 'old-fashioned' guy who has been frozen in ice for 70 years. Thor, being from the pagan pantheon of gods, would never say such a thing; Tony Stark's worldly solipsism would never permit him to make such an utterance; Hulk.. well, Hulk smash. You get the idea. On one hand it can be seen as a tip of the hat to the Creator of the universe, but on the other hand it could have been cynically placed in the mouth of a hopelessly benighted, 'old-fashioned' guy who literally is from another time, as he's the only one who would ever think such a primitive thought. Let's be charitable and assume it was the former.

'The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo' -- Fincher's Take

Despite my not having read any of the books, or seen the Swedish films, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo was still atop the list of my most anticipated films of the year because of director David Fincher. Fincher is one of a small handful of elite American auteurs and also one of my personal favorite filmmakers, so naturally I closely follow all of his projects. And though I had no personal familiarity with the source material, I was aware that it was dark, gritty, pulpy, and intense which is right in Fincher's wheelhouse. Knowing this, seeing the trailer, and being aware that he would again be teaming up with Trent Reznor -- which seems like a much more fitting marriage of material-director-composer than did The Social Network -- The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo catapulted to the top of my most anticipated list for 2011 (2nd only to The Tree of Life).

To briefly set the table: the film is set in present day Sweden where investigative journalist Mikael Blomkvist has just been sued for libel and lost the case. Publicly disgraced, he is contacted by a rich businessman who wants him to investigate the disappearance of his niece, who was 16 at the time she disappeared forty years ago. The businessman and his family live in a secluded area, where members of the wretched family rarely talk to each other, despite all living within earshot of one another. He wants Mikael to apply his keen eye to a collected storehouse of evidence and see if anything stands out to him, all the time suspecting someone in his own family to be somehow involved in the nasty business.

Meanwhile, Lisbeth Salander is a 23 year-old, pierced, tattooed, mow-hawked girl who the state essentially contracts out to people who need her hi-tech savvy and brilliant investigative acumen. After a brutal subplot involving Salander's rape by -- and revenge upon -- the social worker in charge of her finances, Mikael seeks her out to be his partner in attempting to solve the case. With their combined skills, they form an investigative super-team and get to work.

The most interesting, and not immediately obvious, thing about the film is the way that it fits inside of Fincher's oeuvre. Most significantly, the fact that it's his third serial killer film, and the manner in which it acts as a kind of counterpoint to Zodiac. Zodiac was a serial-killer detective procedural that was marked by frustration and failure, where every piece of evidence seemed to only lead to other pieces of evidence which didn't connect, or to complete dead ends. Common human failure and technological limitations of the era were the primary sources of disruption, and the halting but deliberate pacing of the film was reflective of this. By contrast, Dragon Tattoo is marked by a breakneck pace that mirrors the immaculately speedy and efficient detective work on display in the film, which is aided by today's wealth of technological tools that make the '70s look something like the stone-ages. Where Zodiac was a film that depicted human limitation and weakness all too clearly, Dragon Tattoo is an ode to reason and deduction and the rewards that can be reaped from skill and dedication. Instead of every piece of evidence popping up and then promptly disappearing again, every piece of evidence fits into the greater puzzle. Every loose end can be tracked down and tidied up.

And, as exciting as that can make the exploits on screen, it also strains credulity at times. The central crime that is being investigated took place over forty years ago, long before the explosive proliferation of cell-phones with cameras, yet there is an insane abundance of photographic evidence that the investigators are able to collect. So much, in fact, that Mikael is able to create a flip-book with shots from one crucial scene and, without much difficulty at all, track down a shot from another angle on the other side of the street at an important moment. Not that realism is at the top of my list of requirements for a film, but there are still reasonable limits and the film tested them in certain moments.

Fincher puts a great deal of faith in his audience, which I always appreciate, but there is at least one pivotal scene that is a wordless montage which requires reading a bit and following a certain investigative logic that I imagine could lose some people, especially given the speed at which the events unfold. In my case, it just made those sections exhilarating.

Despite the, at times, quite outlandish nature of the material -- not only the superhuman feats of the detectives, but also the almost cartoonishly wicked characters that they come into contact with and scenarios that unfold -- Dragon Tattoo excels as a superbly crafted entertainment. Lisbeth Salander lived up to her billing as an original and iconic character. It's quite difficult to think of any legitimate benchmark for comparison as I've really never encountered much like her in film or literature. She is a creature of an emerging world and something novel.

Shot in actual Sweden, the cinematography is predictably phenomenal. Fincher's trademark cinematic  wizardry is on display throughout, whether it's in the transitions, in the framing of shots in the middle of a blizzard (which may or may not be a CGI creation), or shots of Lisbeth tearing through the streets on her motorcycle, the aesthetic qualities of the films are excellent. Reznor's soundtrack is another subtle, brilliant piece of work, rarely intruding too openly, and always adding a grim layer of texture. Daniel Craig as Blomkvist is the best that I've ever seen him, and Rooney Mara turns in a solid performance as Salander, though at times it seemed that her performance may have lacked a certain intensity. Which, admittedly, is explicable as a product of her lousy childhood, and which may contribute to an air of even greater cloaked intensity. I'm not positive which it is. In any case, Fincher made it work for the film.

As a standalone piece, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo is another triumph for Fincher who continues to deliver the goods. Seen within the greater context of the work of the artist, specifically as part of a triptych along with Se7en and Zodiac, Dragon Tattoo's standing is elevated even further.

The Tree of Life and Eschatology

Brother... Mother. It was they who brought me to your door.

On first viewing these opening words to The Tree of Life seem enigmatic, but on a second viewing they take on a more literal meaning.

After having seen the film, we know that Jack has an intense love for both his brother and mother, whom we see in his memories. His mother is portrayed as a graceful, angelic, flawless being of light. Since no human purely embodies goodness in this way, it's safe to assume that the lens through which the mother is portrayed in the film is Jack's own memories. Many of which were based on real experiences, but many of which he probably has imagined or constructed. Such as when we see his parents grieving his brother's death, and there's a shot of Jack as a grown man in the room with them, but they can't see him. Indicating that this is Jack's own interpretation of how his parents received the news of his brother's death.  Or when we see his mother dancing on air. The mother in the film is most likely an idealized version of his mother -- as his memory has somewhat distorted or caricatured her -- whose graciousness and love led Jack to see goodness in the world and seek to understand it.

The same is true of his brother, but in a different way. He also sees his brother as fundamentally good, while he views himself as fundamentally wicked (at least after a certain age when he "discovers" sin). The death of Jack's brother profoundly affects him, even into his late adult life, as you would imagine. It is reflection upon this tragedy that prompts Jack to seek answers to questions about life by probing his own memories about his brother.

But whose door do Jack's mother and brother bring him to?

Within the context of the film it's clear that the door is God's door. The door of Faith, which is portrayed near the end of the film as a literal door frame in the middle of a desert landscape. Having searched his own life, through his memories, for answers about God, life, humanity and existence, and having primarily found those answers through his mother and his brother, Jack is brought to the door of Faith and he steps through.


As soon as Jack steps through the door there is a sequence of shots that are reminiscent of those from the Creation sequence earlier in the film when, in response to questions of "Who are we to you?", God responds -- as he does in the Book of Job -- with a display of natural wonders starting with the Creation of the universe. At this moment, when he comes to Faith by trusting in God and, according to the Christian belief, is made a new man through Christ, we are shown a glimpse of New Creation. The ultimate, eschatological reality of those who will be resurrected to live in the New Creation.

 Malick's choices of shot sequence are not arbitrary. These shots of New Creation are triggered the moment Jack enters the door of Faith. In most of these shots Earth itself is shown, and these shots can be taken to represent an external, God's-eye view of New Creation occurring -- Heaven and Earth coming together -- which we then "zoom in" to on the shores of a beach of New Earth, where the Humans are entering New Creation together, after having been resurrected. The title of the film is significant here as in Revelation 22:2 where the tree of life is used as a symbol for mankind's renewal during the time when Eden is being restored. Add to this the otherworldly look of the landscapes that are shown -- though still clearly being Earthly -- along with the resurrection images, and how all of this relates to the Christian doctrines of the Resurrection and New Creation, and how they in turn relate to Jack's journey in the film leads me to the conclusion that the final sequence is a profound depiction of Christian eschatology.

It would seem that this final sequence is a subjective vision as experienced by Jack, but one which acts as a preview for Jack, showing an understanding of the ultimate hope for humanity from his perspective. Whether it's a literal vision given to Jack supernaturally, or whether it is Jack's personal understanding of a divine truth is debatable, but the essence of what is being shown seems indisputable.

As the film can largely be seen as an ongoing dialogue with God, taking place in the head of Jack, with God providing answers to Jack's questions, this final sequence is a culmination of the answers to all the questions: "Who are we to you?", "Where were you?", "Why do we suffer?", "Is there nothing deathless in this world?", "How do I get back where they are [to a place of innocence]?" God provided individual answers along the way, but the ultimate answer to all of them is that God's love and grace opens up a means for Salvation from our fallen state where pain, sin, and death are defeated and erased, and we are given New Life in Christ.

With the grip that dispensationalism has on the contemporary, American religious imagination, it's highly likely that even many Christians wouldn't recognize this eschatological vision as being fundamentally Christian at all. Which is a shame because -- if not for other more important reasons -- it would allow for a deeper appreciation of this film and what it has to say.

Moneyball, Math and Poker

Since I haven't followed baseball closely since I was a teenager, I was oblivious to what the subject matter of Moneyball would be, other than the fact it was based on the true story of the general manager of the Oakland A's during a particular recent season. Having this fresh, untainted perspective made the film that much more enjoyable for me, I imagine, because I felt like I had actually learned something coming out of the theater.

The narrative depicts a kind of revolution in the way that baseball management and scouting are done within the organization of the A's. In 2001, coming off a successful season, the general manager Billy Beane (played by Brad Pitt), is forced to operate within a very limited budget and compete against teams like the Yankees who were spending three times as much and taking some of the A's star players in free agency, like Jason Giambi. Necessity is, in fact, the mother of invention, it turns out.

In looking to revamp his team on a limited budget, Billy goes to work seeking to make some deals with other teams, but without much leverage to work with. When a trade with a team goes sour because of the input of one of the team's statistical analysts in the room -- Peter, played by Jonah Hill -- Beane realizes that Peter is something of a genius that thinks outside of the box of typical management strategies (as Billy is looking to do), and recruits him to be his assistant. Using a highly math-based, statistical-analysis method of scouting and recruitment, Peter thinks he can help Billy rebuild a winning team on the cheap by finding players that are undervalued by traditional metrics.

Though their system is initially mocked as egg-headed, stuffy, and ineffective, there are underlying non-mathematical realizations about what wins game and what is valued in players, versus what should be valued in them, which are qualitative as well as quantitative. For example, Billy's system values walks and On-Base Percentage higher than most traditional systems, and cares much less about fielding in general (especially at the position of first base). This could be right or wrong, but it isn't merely a statistical data point; it's a view of what really produces runs and wins, and what is less important than most people think. Peter also uses statistics to analyze things like pitch distributions and, through Billy, advises players on the appropriate adjustments to make to their game. Younger "math-based" players in poker are often similarly unfairly criticized by the old guard, with the older players often seemingly oblivious to the fact that statistical analysis is a description of actions taken in the real world which reflect important realities, such as betting patterns.

Billy's staff is resistant to the change given their experience and knowledge of the game, but Billy is convinced of the soundness of Peter's insights, which are based on the work of Bill James. One exchange between Billy and his head scout plays out exactly as the dynamic between an old-school, live, intuitive poker player and a young, online, "math-guy" poker player (which is itself similar to the dynamic that took place when the stock market was similarly revolutionized, or so I'm told).

Billy and Peter's method is derided in the media when the team opens the season in poor fashion. But their vision for the team is being hampered by the team's Manager, Art Howe (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) who isn't playing the team the way that Billy wants him to. Once Billy pulls some strings, by trading certain players, Art is forced to go with the program, at which point the A's go on a phenomenal winning streak.

Realistically it's of course possible that the winning streak had more to do with some other variables than Billy and Peter's system, but within the narrative of the film their system is vindicated, just as the "math guys" and "quants" in the stock market and poker worlds were vindicated and changed the way the respective "games" were played. It isn't a perfect analogy, of course. There actually is a personal, intangible, psychological element to live poker that isn't present in baseball, but the significant correlation was interesting to me as a poker player.

For the record, Moneyball has more to offer than this short post suggests. The screenplay by Steve Zaillian (Schindler's List, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo) and Aaron Sorkin (The Social Network) is superb, and the cast is fantastic. I highly recommend it, even to those of you who have no interest in math or analogies to the poker world.

Capitalism: A Love Story

Lambasting a film by Michael Moore is the simplest task an apologist for conservatism could ever be assigned. His films are so ripe with puerile absurdities and vulgar rubbish that they function as the perfect foil for a conservative critic. And while I would love to be the one to pen the definitive death knell for this film, I imagine a better conservative writer -- more intelligent and thorough than myself -- has long since beat me to the punch (though I haven't read [or searched for] any such reviews). However, having just seen the film, I would like to highlight some of the finer points that stuck in my craw.

One of the overarching problems with the film is that it fails to delineate what capitalism is, or when free markets are actually in play. Thus, in response to many of the film's supposed critiques of capitalism, one need only ask rhetorically "And what does this have to do with capitalism?" Very often the answer is: nothing at all.

For example, Moore spends some time on the issue of the housing market collapse and subsequent financial market bailouts, but never makes any salient connection between those events and capitalism. In fact, completely oblivious to what his own argument is, he details the events as if he's demonstrating the stupidity of capitalism -- aggressive re-financing of mortgages, people using the equity in their homes as banks, sub-prime loans etc. -- when he's actually merely demonstrating the stupidity of people within capitalism, as well as the stupidity of government interventions in the market (i.e. artificially low interest rates for decades, CRA, Freddie and Fannie's existence, political pushing for increases in home ownership, TARP/bailouts, etc). The latter being largely responsible for the former. In the matter of the people within the system making poor financial decisions -- setting aside the fact that such decisions were motivated, encouraged, underwritten and insured by the government -- what of it? No one ever claimed that the existence of capitalism ensures people will make sound financial decisions, or that they won't have to pay the consequences of poor ones. Yes, there are winners and losers in a capitalist system, and there are market fluctuations. Defenders of free-market capitalism only ever claimed that it's the most just system and that it's the most efficient at creating wealth and higher standards of living across the board. None of the facts surrounding the housing market collapse or the subsequent bailouts mitigates against this claim.

Speaking of the bailouts, Moore correctly points out that TARP was passed by stirring up fear and claiming that it was a financial emergency -- when it was not -- and that the bill was passed without Congress even having read it. This is, of course, pure insanity. What Moore seems oblivious to is that only a hard-line conservative, a pro-capitalist, can rationally oppose the taxpayer funded bailouts. The bailouts are Keynesian madness at work; the antidote is conservative sanity. Moore acts as if it's an egregious offense, and it is, but once again, what does this have to do with capitalism? What's the alternative, not bailing out the banks? Allowing them to fail? Of course this is the only alternative, and what of it? It's precisely this opposition to the bailouts that all true defenders of the free-market would (and did) advocate on principle. Yet Moore interviews a couple of Democrat congresspeople about the madness, as if it was anything other than a liberal policy that was put into place.

One might respond to this by stating "Well, yes, by shifting the burden to the taxpayers they are effectively socializing their losses, but they're privatizing their gains!" Keeping in mind that the gains are supposed to be private in a capitalist system, people did certainly make money when the housing market was booming, but the people who made bad investments would have paid for it if the market was allowed to run its natural course. So the problem with "socializing the losses and 'privatizing the gains'" is the first half of the equation. Keep both private and let the market work. Let the banks and financial tycoons take their lumps when the market corrects itself. Let those who didn't make bad investments, who smartly rented when they knew they couldn't afford to buy, who didn't write bad loans, come in and reap the rewards. The gall of Moore to attempt to co-opt this contempt for fiscal irresponsibility and taxpayer bailouts on behalf of the left is appalling nonsense.

To make the absurdity more pronounced, Moore affectionately depicts groups of neighborhood people  protesting someone in their neighborhood getting evicted. Moore and these neighborhood people apparently think you should be allowed to own things that you can't afford and haven't paid for. Why? To his credit, he doesn't even attempt the farce of a logical argument here; it's a pure, unadulterated emotional appeal that is transparently hollow.

It isn't always obvious to me whether Moore's propaganda piece is being intentionally deceptive, or whether the filmmaker is simply oblivious to the massive holes in his own argument. For instance, he brings to the viewer's attention the case of a bread company, somewhere in the Midwest, that runs its operations in a quasi-socialist fashion. They make decisions democratically, management and factory workers get paid the same amount, everyone owns part of the company, and it is claimed that they are quite successful. In this case the question isn't "what does this have to do with capitalism" but "how is this not capitalism at work?" This company competes in the marketplace, it has an innovative internal structure that works, and it profits at the expense of its competitors who have inferior business models; the owners simply choose to generously distribute the profits more equitably than most companies. So what? How is this antithetical to any capitalist principle? How is this anything other than owners voluntarily being charitable with workers, using money supplied by a capitalist system? Which is precisely a principle at the heart of conservative, free-market orthodoxy; charity should be private and not public.

Moore speaks about the widening wealth gap and the shrinking middle-class, which are partially just myths, but to the extent that they are true, or that they may be true, is a widening wealth gap an inherently negative thing? Moore and the rest of the left speak as if this is self-evident, but it plainly is not the case. Consider the following hypothetical graphs:

I've shown 'Wealth' on the Y-axis, though a better indicator might be 'Standard of Living', as that is what really matters, though the two are obviously closely related. In any case, if both of the scenarios depicted in the graph are possible -- and they are -- then a widening wealth gap can be a fine thing indeed for everyone, and a narrowing wealth gap can be a terrible thing for everyone. So speaking about the 'wealth gap' outside of the all-important economic context is a misleading and disingenuous misuse of language. A widening wealth gap could be something to rejoice over, if indeed the "rising tide lifts all boats", as has been the case throughout history where free markets operate unimpeded. Yet the left's propaganda machine has convinced many that a 'widening wealth gap' is inherently bad, which is demonstrably false.

The last point I'll touch on is Moore's claim that being a Christian is somehow incompatible with being a proponent of capitalism. How does he go about demonstrating the truth of this contentious claim? He interviews three priests who all have a low view of capitalism. Well, that should pretty well prove it! Flimsy, irrelevant, anecdotal evidence of this sort is, of course, par for the course for Moore, but the absolute void of content in his interviews of the priests is astounding. One priest positively loathes capitalism, and claims Jesus (if you'll recall, a demonstrably apolitical Messiah, with very little concern for economic systems or the specifics of worldly governance, one way or another) would have shared his disdain. Oh, really, he would have agreed with you, you say? Please, tell me more!

The priest obliges: "Capitalism is a sin!"

"Father, I confess I capitalism'ed this past weekend."

"That'll be 10 Hail Marys and 20 Our Fathers, my son."

Of course, the assertion that capitalism is a sin is even more absurd than the claim that capitalism is an inherent good. As I've written elsewhere, capitalism is a blank slate; an economic space within which to operate that is the most free of violence and coercion. It is neither good nor evil inherently, it's simply free whereas other economic spaces are less so. The idea of collective sins -- which capitalism would have to be if it was any kind of sin -- is also antithetical to the Bible which teaches that only humans can sin. Abstractions can not.

I could go on. I haven't even mentioned Moore's demagoguery or hectoring tone. I haven't really broached the issue of the lack of supporting data for his claims. I haven't fully illustrated just how imprecise and vacuous the 'arguments' presented are. But I think you get the idea.

Capitalism -- though imperfect -- is the best, most just economic system yet devised by man which, whenever truly unleashed, radically improves the conditions of those living under the system, and every relevant piece of historical data attests to this fact.

Rise of The Fountain

Extremely brief review: Rise of the Planet of the Apes was solidly-above-average summer blockbuster fare. The CGI and motion-capture work done on the apes, especially on the character of Caesar, as well as the underlying performance by Andy Serkis, were amazing both from a technical and emotional/character-development standpoint. Some fairly petty grievances (considering the genre) -- apes of average size jumping through shatter-proof glass as though it were paper without so much as a running start and emerging completely unscathed, primitively armed apes (providentially cloaked in fog) overtaking squadrons of human police without the police firing a single shot in retaliation, the faux-science etc. -- kept the film from being fully enjoyable for me. In the end it's a fun film, but not worthy of comparison to the original.

With that out of the way, the actual point of this post is to highlight some vivid parallels between large portions of this film and Darren Aronofsky's The Fountain. While some of the parallels could be seen as mere genre conventions and might be written off as simply coincidental taken individually, I think when the parallels are observed collectively it would be astonishing if the filmmakers weren't influenced by Aronofsky's film, consciously or subconsciously.

The parallels are wholly confined to the laboratory segments of both films. Beyond that there doesn't seem to be any influence at all, but within the laboratory sequences the films practically mirror each other.

In The Fountain, Tom, played by Hugh Jackman, is a highly motivated research scientist heading a team who are investigating possible cures for certain diseases, and who are experimenting on monkeys. Tom has a personal agenda because his wife has a terminal cancer and is likely going to die soon if he can't find a cure. He is embroiled in the politics and economics of the research work that he is doing, while not caring primarily about it. Tom's team of researchers stumble upon a compound that doesn't heal the cancerous tumor on one of their monkeys, but does reverse the aging process in the monkey. The results are beyond anything they could have hoped for, but weren't exactly what they were aiming for.

In Rise of the Planet of the Apes, Will, played by James Franco, is an extremely driven research scientist heading a team who are investigating possible cures for certain brain diseases, and who are experimenting on monkeys. Will has a personal agenda because his dad is suffering the effects of Alzheimer's, and Will wants to find a cure. He is embroiled in the politics and economics of the research work that he is doing, while not caring primarily about it.Will's team of researchers stumble upon a compound that not only fights the degenerative effects on brain cells, from diseases like Alzheimer's, but actually increases brain function. The results are beyond anything he could have hoped for, but weren't exactly what he was aiming for.

It almost appears as if the creators of Rise watched The Fountain and thought "wouldn't this be a cool way for the apes to have taken over in a prequel to Planet of the Apes?"

David Bentley Hart on 'The Tree of Life'

The anxious anticipation is over. David Bentley Hart has weighed in on The Tree of Life in a piece titled Seven Characters In Search of a Nihil Obstat over at First Things.

The muses are gaily capricious in the favors they bestow upon us, but humorlessly imperious in the demands they make of us. One never knows when inspiration may strike; one knows only that, when it comes, it must not be resisted. In my case, the occasion was an idle afternoon this past week, as I was irascibly considering the reaction of a few conservative Catholic critics to Terrence Malick’s strange, beautiful, perhaps slightly mad, and deeply Christian film The Tree of Life. One review even described the sensibility of the film as “New Age,” a judgment bizarrely inapposite to Malick’s often dark, often radiant, emotionally austere, and deeply contemplative art.

The film, in fact, is brilliant, mesmerizingly lovely, and almost alarmingly biblical. Even if one is not enchanted (as I most definitely am) by Malick’s signature cinematic mannerisms, or by the fleeting hints of his more recondite intellectual preoccupations (Heidegger? Gnosticism? Buddhism? Russian Sophiology, perhaps?), surely one ought to recognize the ingenious subtlety of the scriptural allegories around which the film is built, and of the film’s meditations on the mystery of God’s silence and eloquence, and on innocence and transgression, and on the divine glory that shines out from all things.

Or so I was thinking as I drowsed there, warming my pelt in a pool of sunlight. Then, however, it occurred to me that perhaps, after all, these critics did have a kind of point. Oh, yes, The Tree of Life is profoundly, if mysteriously, scriptural—with its images of Eden, Cain and Abel, God speaking out of the whirlwind, divine Wisdom dancing at the heart of creation, Christ the man of sorrows, and so on—but is that sufficient to make it a truly Catholic film, at least of the sort these earnest critics so obviously crave? And I realized that probably it is not: It contains no pericopes from the catechism, no triumphant affirmations of papal primacy, no satisfying deathbed conversions, no heartwarming tableaux of the happy Catholic family warm in the embrace of Mother Church, no nuns, no Bing Crosby, no Italians . . .

It's not an exhaustively thorough review of the film, but it is great to hear his thoughts. He spends the bulk of the piece satirically renouncing the suggestion by some Catholics that the film is "New Age" or "not Christian enough". As I had written before, I also found such suggestions absurd, but Hart finds a particularly brilliant method of ridiculing these suggestions by offering a rough draft script for the perfect Catholic film.

'Tree of Life' Befuddles Some

As the film opens in wider and wider release, and reaches audiences in more remote parts of the country, it has apparently provoked some bizarre reactions. It recently debuted at Avon Theater in Stamford Connecticut and received what must have been some substantial number of patrons who sought a refund because the film was 'boring', 'unfocused' and 'time-dragging'. This wouldn't be so surprising if it occurred at a large multiplex, but at a small, indie-oriented, arthouse theater -- whose patrons should be used to unconventional, challenging films -- it is strange.

The theater denied requests for refunds, standing by the quality of the film, and posted this letter outside the cinema in response:

I would deride the intelligence of this particular town, but the movie isn't a puzzle film. It's a film that is primarily to be experienced and enjoyed, rather than 'figured out'. It doesn't take a great intellect to engage the film seriously or to be moved by it. But if your palette for film is trained on simplistic, crowd-pleasing, commercial cinema -- as I suspect must be the case for those seeking refunds -- then the response isn't surprising. Which is not to say that any and all sophisticated film aficionados will certainly, inexorably enjoy the film, but it is fairly safe to say that none of them would seek a refund since they would be able to appreciate the ambition and the craft of the film, even if it didn't necessarily work for them.

The other possibility is that the viewers are fairly sophisticated, arthouse patrons, but they took offense at the religious content. Though, given the nature of the responses as described, I don't think this is the case. It's much more likely that they were unsophisticated viewers who were attracted by the big names.

The film doesn't open everywhere until July 8th and once it does I suspect that some large percentage of mainstream audiences will respond similarly, since their appreciation apparatus for high-art in general is so poorly calibrated and their tastes are so coarse and vulgar. We shall see.

Malick Prepping 6 Hour Cut of 'The Tree of Life'

Over the weekend Emanuel Lubezki -- the cinematographer who worked with Terrence Malick on The Tree of Life -- said in an interview when discussing Malick's editing that Malick is preparing a 6 hour cut of The Tree of Life. This is astonishing for multiple reasons.

First is that a 6 hour long movie of any kind is an absurd oddity. Second is that a 6 hour cut of this particular film -- which may be the best of the millennium -- is an absurd oddity that will have film lovers salivating in anticipation. The third reason is that this is the busiest Malick has ever been in his career. He has just completed The Tree of Life, he's already competed shooting on a new film, and he's apparently in the ongoing process of working on Voyage of Time, a feature length documentary that is an extrapolation of the sequence from The Tree of Life that depicts the creation and evolution of the universe. Add to this that he's apparently simultaneously editing a 6-hour cut of The Tree of Life and that's a lot of activity for a man who is known for extended periods of inactivity. Though the 6-hour cut might not be as labor intensive because he's  winnowing it down from an initial 8-hour cut of the movie that already exists.

Apparently the long cut will feature a lot more of the material from the young boys lives, which makes sense. It will be very interesting to see how this turns out. It's difficult to imagine improving upon the current 2.5 hour cut of the film, which seems perfectly paced and proportioned. I wonder if it will be released on director's cut DVD (hopefully Criterion) or if it will get a limited cinematic re-release? Or whether it will ever see any kind of release at all? In any case, I absolutely can't wait to see it.

Films to Anticipate - For 2011 and Beyond

My tastes in film tend to be fairly narrow -- as you'll see, I mostly like directors with arthouse roots, who carry those sensibilities into their more mainstream, bigger budget, studio careers -- but some parties have expressed interest in my opinion on what films they should be keeping an eye out for so hopefully this will be a helpful resource. If you feel I've omitted anything worth anticipating, please comment and let me know. It's possible something slipped my mind, or there's a project I was otherwise unaware of.

Django Unchained - written and directed by Quentin Tarantino. It just broke that the film will be released on Christmas day, 2012. Coming off of the excellent Inglorious Basterds, Tarantino continues to explore the theme of historical vengeance, aimed at the purest evils. In Basterds, it was the Nazis, in Django it will be slave owners in America. The film is a spaghetti western about an escaped slave (as yet uncast) who teams up with a German bounty hunter (Christoph Waltz), to get revenge on a merciless slave owner to be played by Leonardo DiCaprio, who has taken his wife hostage. It's kind of philosophically interesting what Tarantino seems to be doing, in a meta-film sense. Some viewers -- rightly -- have qualms about indulging in revenge fantasies, but Tarantino seems to be challenging those viewers to try not to indulge and delight in his tales of vengeance against the purest of evils, those that are the most prominent in the consciousness of the West. It's admittedly difficult to resist the appeal.

Untitled - In an unprecedented turnaround time, Terrence Malick has quickly followed up completion of his magnificent, stunning The Tree of Life, with a new film. Malick is notorious for having large gaps of time between films, so it's peculiar that he would film, and can, a new movie this quickly. And with The Tree of Life representing a kind of culmination of his film career thematically, it will be very interesting to see what direction this film goes. The new film is still untitled, but is sometimes referred to as 'The Burial'. It is some form of love story with Ben Affleck and Rachel McAdams playing the two main characters (and Javier Bardem playing a priest). Though it's finished shooting, there's no telling how long it will take to edit, market and release, but whenever it does hit, definitely be on the lookout.

The Master - though the title is subject to change, this is Paul Thomas Anderson's new one with Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Joaquin Phoenix. The film is said to be loosely modeled on the life of L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of Scientology. I believe it's about to start filming soon. Coming off of There Will be Blood, I was very curious to see what PTA would tackle next, and this seems interesting and ambitious material. Anderson is absolutely among the most interesting and talented directors working, so I can't wait for this.

The Dark Knight Rises - by Christopher Nolan with Tom Hardy as Bane and Anne Hathaway as Catwoman, with most of the rest of the cast returning. The consensus is that The Dark Knight is the best superhero comic book film ever made, and I'm somewhat inclined to agree, even though I do think it had more flaws than most seem to think. In any case, Christopher Nolan films are reliably smart and entertaining, so if there's any blockbuster-type film to eagerly await, it's this one. I think it's coming out summer 2012.

Noah - This is still in early stages, but things are happening with it. After dropping out of directing The Wolverine, it seems that this Biblical epic will be Darren Aronofsky's (Pi, Requiem for a Dream) next endeavor. Aronofsky and his collaborators made the script into a graphic novel to help pitch the film, which apparently worked as it currently has been 50% financed by some studio, and will have the rest covered if they officially land Christian Bale to star (he's currently in talks to do so). It's safe to say that it won't be your typical Charlton Heston-esque Old Testament epic with Aronofsky directing. Aronofsky has said he wants to explore this story and the character of Noah, who he says has more darkness and nuance to him than you typically tend to think. I believe I read that he might portray Noah, initially, as a drunk, or something to that effect. But don't quote me on that.

The Hobbit - With Peter Jackson retaking the helm, after Guillermo Del Toro left the films, fans of The Lord of the Rings films, as well as the books, can feel fairly confident that all is well. Not that I was too worried when Del Toro was directing, but there was a question to what extent he would submit himself to Jackson's vision of the universe, and to what extent he would inject his own vision. His design of Smaug that he described in a New Yorker profile of him, for example, seemed to be particularly Del Toro-ish -- which means Smaug would not be particularly consistent with Jackson's universe. In any event, with Jackson helming there are no longer such lingering questions, and greatness is to be expected. As I understand it, this will actually be two films, covering the material from The Hobbit, and adding story to kind of connect The Hobbit to the beginning of Lord of the Rings.

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo - Based on Stieg Larsson's immensely popular millennium trilogy, this sees David Fincher (Se7en, Fight Club, Zodiac, The Social Network) returning to his dark, pulp roots as a director. Seems to be a brilliant match of director and material. The trailer looks great and Fincher's work is consistently excellent. It hits theaters Christmas, 2011.

A Dangerous Method - directed by David Cronenberg, and featuring Viggo Mortesen and Michael Fassbender as Freud and Jung, respectively. Mortensen is great, but I would have loved to see Christoph Waltz (who dropped out at the last minute) as Freud alongside Fassbender. This should be excellent.

Gravity - by Alfonso Cuaron starring George Clooney and Sandra Bullock. The film has gone through some production woes, with Robert Downey Jr. being slated to star, and eventually dropping out, and I'm not quite sure what stage it is at currently, but if and when it gets completed it should be very cool. Cuaron directed one of the best Earth-bound, sci-fi dystopian films ever with Children of Men, so it should be cool to see him bring his sensibilities to space sci-fi. The film is said to be 60% CGI, integrating live-action with CGI. That is somewhat disheartening, but I imagine that the bulk of CGI will be of inanimate objects, like space crafts and such, and so won't be so bad. Apparently most of -- if not the whole -- film will be shot in zero-gravity conditions, and it will feature a 20-minute, uncut opening shot. Cool.

Blood Meridian - based on the novel by Cormac McCarthy (No Country for Old Men, The Road) the film was once slated to have Ridley Scott direct, then Todd Field, and more recently the project has fallen into the hands of James Franco, which seems insane. Franco is unproven as a director, and this is a literary classic of the 20th century that will be difficult to bring to the screen. In any case, the source material is utterly brilliant, and much of it has great cinematic potential, especially the enigmatic character of The Judge. If done right it could be phenomenal, but there are a lot of 'ifs' associated with this film at this stage. Who knows when it will go into production, or even whether it will ultimately get made, but if and when it hits theaters, check it out. But read the novel first.

Those are my most highly anticipated, taking a long-term look at the future, as many of the projects have not even begun filming yet. In the more near-term (2011 releases mostly), and with somewhat less interest I'm also anticipating:

• David Cronenberg's Cosmopolis
• Haywire by Steven Soderbergh
• On the Road - an adaptation of the Jack Kerouac novel with a good cast, from the team that made The Motorcycle Diaries
• Moneyball with Brad Pitt, Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Jonah Hill, about Oakland A's manager Billy Beane.
• The Rum Diary starring Johnny Depp based on the novel by Hunter S. Thompson. The film is completed, but since the studio isn't hurrying to release it, it might not be any good.
• The Man of Steel is Zach Snyder's take on Superman
• Moonrise Kingdom is Wes Anderson's newest with Ed Norton and Bill Murray.

The Tree of Life's Christian Pedigree

In my initial review and follow-up post on The Tree of Life it was made clear, I would hope, that the film had a fairly strong Christian (or at least Judeo-Christian) pedigree. Most non-religious reviewers seem to see the film as essentially spiritual, and perhaps vaguely Christian, but as being about 'more' than just God or religion. This is certainly an understandable reading of the film given the worldview that they're working within.

I was more curious to hear the opinion of fellow Christian reviewers and whether or not they would see the film as intensely Christian, or whether they would view it more as primarily depicting a kind of new-agey spirituality.

As a big fan of David Bentley Hart, I inquired whether he would be reviewing the film, since he had professed great admiration of Terrence Malick's work, and since this is Malick's most overtly Christian film, in my view. Unfortunately, he hasn't had a chance to see the film yet and said that he would only know whether he had an inclination to review it after he has seen it.

This video review by Father Robert Barron on Youtube largely echoes my interpretation of the film, as well as gives some additional perspective on the film.

Today, over at First Things, Kevin Collins wrote one of the first Christian reviews of the film that I've read and he definitely tends more toward the interpretation of the film depicting interactions with an indifferent, mute, new-age, deist God -- but not the Christian God or the God of the Old Testament. He points primarily to the fact that Christ's name is never invoked in the film, that the God in the film is ill-defined, and that the Faith of the family isn't of a robust nature, occupying the center of their lives. What this reviewer seems to miss, I think, is that the film is mostly about coming to faith, not already dwelling strongly within it. The journey is that of Jack's, and it's about him finding his faith, amidst responses from God that are of the same character as God's response in the Book of Job.

To some extent, Collins accurately points out what the film is not, but I think he misses what the film is. Certainly it is not a theological treatise; it is not a depiction of the most venerable form of Christian Faith; it is not about all the details of the history of God's relationship with man. It is a film about the God of Creation; it is about Man occupying a central place in God's creation; it is about the Fall, death, human frailty and sin; it is about a God who loves his creatures; it is even about salvation, Resurrection and New Creation. Admittedly, much of this is arrived at in a somewhat elliptical fashion, but there seems to be no question that this is the thrust of much of the film.

A Christian viewer might have liked the means of reconciliation and salvation to be depicted in more concrete terms, but one must be aware too that putting in material extremely Christ-centric, with strongly Christian language would absolutely drive studios, stars, financial backers, distributors, and viewers away from the film -- unfortunately -- very probably relegating the film to straight-to-video status, at best. Not that this was Malick's reason for not doing this -- I think he likely was able to make the film he intended to make -- but the desire to see such a thing in a mainstream studio film is a literal impossibility.

Celebrate The Tree of Life for being the film that it is, and try not to to let the thoughts of what it is not detract from that appreciation.

X-men: First Class - Review

The best parts about the Bryan Singer helmed X-men films (let's all forget the Rattner one, please) were Wolverine and the relationship between Xavier and Magneto. The tension between their opposed worldviews, the philosophizing, their continued friendship (of sorts) that persists even when they are on the opposite sides of a chasm of thought. Not to mention the superb casting of Ian McKellan and Patrick Stewart. Though, because this dynamic only evolves over the course of two films packed with characters, it's given short shrift. What is there is fantastic, but it's necessarily -- and unfortunately  -- very limited.

The makers of X-men: First Class (helmed by Matthew Vaughn) smartly make the Charles-Erik (or Professor X - Magneto) dynamic the heart of this film as well, and it pays dividends. The casting is, once again, excellent and the respective performances are pitch perfect. James McEvoy plays a young, ambulatory Professor X with charm and class. While Michael Fassbender's Magneto is seething with a thirst for vengeance, and his performance is explosive.

The film acts as a prequel to the trilogy of films released last decade, even using one of the first scenes from the first X-men film as the opening scene for this one. Exploring the seeds of division that resulted in Professor X's school for mutants and Magneto's Brotherhood, the film revolves around the two characters and their relationship. Set during the Cold War, the events embroil mutants in the affairs of humans and serves to explain the origins of Magneto's antipathy and Xavier's pity and compassion toward them.

It was satisfying to get more of this relationship and these characters, but once again I felt as if the film would have benefited from narrowing its focus even further, at the expense of giving less attention to minor characters and plot.

Though there are things to like in the secondary characters and their interactions. The character arcs of -- and relationship between -- Raven and Beast are interesting and well done. And the training sequences of Havoc and Banshee are cool. Beast's birth is pretty awesome, being shown from a first-person perspective. Of course there are the big action set pieces and the mutant confrontations, and those are extremely well-done, especially the climactic sequence.

The villains are actually one of the film's somewhat weak points, I thought. Sebastian Shaw, played by Kevin Bacon (who always plays a great villain) looks and sounds like he should be just some kind of diabolical mastermind- human-pulling-the-strings-behind-the-scenes, but he turns out to have one of the ultimate mutations it almost feels unfair to the heroes (though if you're familiar with him from the comics, you know it going in). I generally like a foe with slightly more meager gifts, but a more brilliant plan (ultimately it's only dumb luck that does him in, which is a bit of a flaw in the script). The great thing about the main villain, Shaw, is that Magneto has an extremely personal vendetta against him, and that acts as perfect fuel to Fassbender's flame.

The Shaw-Magneto dynamic is very interesting, in terms of character, because of what it reveals about Magneto. He doesn't oppose Shaw because he aims to destroy humans, on the contrary, he shares his worldview (after years in his tutelage). The only thing he holds against Shaw is the harm he inflicted on Magneto's family. It's the most personal kind of grudge, and the set-up and payoff for that dynamic is marvelous.

X-men: First Class is definitely the best X-men film to date, which I give a high recommendation. Definitely earns its place right in the upper echelon of comic book films made since the comic-book-film explosion.