Meet my new friends II - Tina Howe

Tina Howe

Tina Howe is the honaree at Baylor's Bi-Annual Horton Foote Festival. I was largely unfamiliar with her works before coming here. I had read "Pride's Crossing" and lived near the town by the same name within which the play is set, but I didn't know much more than that. Howe's an accomplished, pulitzer and tony nominee who's plays dance lightly between realism and absurdism. I got to direct a ten minute piece of hers entitled Teeth. I liked the play.

Ysterday we got to meet with her (the entire department-175 people) and she's just what I'd hoped she'd be. Gracious, self-effacing and inspiring. She's been doing this thing for many years now.

We all got to ask questions and I squeaked out a graduate-sounding question. But what I really wanted to know was, "How many plays must you write in order to stop wondering if you are really a playwright?" But of course, that has a lot more to do with my shit than hers.

I get to have lunch with her in half an hour. I'll report anything Earth-shatteringly meaningful in the conversation or the food itself.

She's a very cool lady and I recommend you check out her plays.

The Nest
Birth and After Birth
Museum
The Art of Dining
Painting Churches
Coastal Disturbances
Approaching Zanzibar
One Shoe Off
Pride's Crossing
Skin Deep

What I'm writing

So, a while back I shared what I was reading, now I'll share what I'm writing (Academic or otherwise):

Untitled Photographer Play: (Full-length - or maybe one act) This idea has been bouncing around in my head for months now. And it's picked up steam after learning more about Brecht and the commedia dell'arte. PLOT: There's a photographer whose work is incredible, immediately loved by all who see it. Young, old, critically-minded, simple-minded, experts, novices. Everybody. The photographer is much the same way. He is kind, and compassinate, very engaging and inspiring. And he's mute. Which adds to the intrigue about him because you get the sense that his art and his manner speak more clearly for him than a voice ever could. But very quickly the audience discovers that he's faking it. He can speak fine. And he's an a-hole. (I have almost 20 pages done on this one)

Ten-Minute Secret Play: I have written a play for the upcoming Horton Foote Festival (at which Tina Howe will be honored). Ms. Howe has also tossed in a ten-minute playwriting competition as part of her visit and her paramters are specific and wacky.

• Have your play take place before, during or after a major disaster (Flood, hurricane, earthquake what-have-you)
• Characters must include "your mom, a tour guide, and a photographer."
• Allow there to be a moment where the dialogue becomes gibberish
• Let there be silences.

I can't tell you more about my specific script (Which is 90% done) until the contest is over, because some of the judges read this blog and it's supposed to be annonymous. But it's fun and weird.

Papers about:

• Commedia dell'arte
• Lope de Vega
• Mother Courage and Her Children

I know it's a bit weird to discuss your assignments on your blog, but the learning I'm doing and my passions are very closesly tied write[right] now. Which is a good place to be.

Myself Again

A funny thing happens.

There are things that we do, that are a part of us. That are who we are. That make us feel like the best us we can be. And we... stop doing them. How ridiculous is that?

For me it's writing. Creatively. I love doing it, I love talking about it. I walk faster when I've been writing. So, why do I forget to do it? Because it's hard and it's not required by the forces that loom largest in my life. Writing is not necessary to get a paycheck or to get along with my wife. And yet, I feel like I'm my truest self (thank you Polonius) when I'm writing.

Luckily, God knows this about me. And every now and then he guides me back to my self. To writing. It's God, I know it is. I smile as I think about Christians shivering to imagine God leading me to write scripts with bad words in them as clearly as He leads me to pray or read Scripture.

Just so you know God's formula for me writing, here it is:


My friend Chris, a screenwriter and my ride to work. We talk scripts. And he just sent me his latest.
+
My friend Graham writing for the fun of it and asking me to read his work
+
My friend DadaDrummer sharing the musical [title of show] with me.
+
My friend Amber posting the following on her Facebook and drawing my attention to it.

Do not assume that you have to have some prescribed condition to do your best work. Do not wait. Do not wait for enough time or money to accomplish what you think you have in mind. Work with what you have RIGHT NOW. Work with the people around you RIGHT NOW... Do not wait for what you assume is the appropriate stress-free environment in which to generate expression. Do not wait for maturity or insight or wisdom. Do not wait till you are sure that you know what you are doing. Do not wait until you have enough technique. What you do now, what you make of your present circumstances will determine the quality and scope of your future endeavors. And at the same time be patient.

-Anne Bogart

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sum: I sat down and wrote 8 pages of a play I've been thinking about for 6 months.


If you're thinking, that's not God, that's your friends. Then, clearly, you are retarded.

Thanks friends for letting God help you be your true selves and in turn...

Blessings to you.

Heart Vomit

Warning: This post contains emotionally disturbing discriptions of family violence.

I have never felt an emotional reaction so strong that it produced a physical response within me. I’ve seen on TV when people throw up from nerves or fear or whatever, but I’ve yet to see a moment where my heart moved my other organs in that way. Until today.

I read a news story about a woman who drowned her 7-year-old son. And he struggled so hard against her (according to the coroner’s office) that his fists were clenched and seized up above his head even hours after the incident.

I didn’t even read much of the article. I immediately clicked away from it, and I paused for a moment looking away from the screen. And I began to gag. It was only momentary, and I did not get physically ill, but apparently, the very idea of a child having to leave this world believing that his own parent wanted to bring harm to him is a hot button for my gag reflex.

A few months ago I was almost as disturbed by a story of a man who threw both of his elementary-aged children out a ninth story hotel room window and then jumped himself. His wife heard their screaming next door and made it into the room just in time to see the father leaping to his death. And as she looked out the window she saw his body and the bodies of her children, still in their colorful pajamas, dead on the pavement below.

I’m not the squeamish type, but I’m hesitant to allow my imagination to drift into that room during those frantic moments. I can’t even fathom the confusion and horror of watching my own father forcing my younger brother out a window as he screamed for our mother, and then seeing him turn back toward me approaching with wild eyes.

It makes me ask the big questions. It makes me wonder about God. Not if he’s there, but if he’s good and if he gives a damn. I hope he’s weeping and retching as well. If he is, why doesn’t he move to end this grand experiment which seems to have failed so miserably. If he isn’t… That’s another imaginative room I’m afraid to enter.

Lumps - A short story by Dan Buck

Based on an image in Chris Van Allsburg's The Mysteries of Harris Burdick.

Lumps

Gary sat in the only lit corner of his immaculate study. A cognac in his hand and his feet slippered and elevated, he stared at the reflection of his tranquil harbor in the darkened bay window.

With a deep sigh he breathed in the silence. A slight creak from beneath his chair opened his lids for a moment. But he quickly decided that it was merely one of the house’s natural sounds that he’d never heard until now. He swirled his snifter in his palm.

It had been a long day of reassuring smiles and too-long hugs with Mary’s parents. They had paid him a “check-in” visit without calling. He’d been cataloguing his collection of novels when he saw them heading up the sidewalk, he quickly paused the Offenbach opera that was loudly filling the house. He grabbed his bathrobe and wrapped it over his khaki pants and pressed white oxford. Then, Gary half peeled a banana, flopped on the couch and clicked on the TV which hadn’t been watched since Mary’s death three weeks before. His preparations were wise as he saw Mary’s mother peer into the window before they knocked.

How are you holding up, sweetheart? A hug. You’re the only one who feels this loss as deeply as we do. Another hug. Oh you poor, thing, is this what’s passing for lunch these days? A sad look at Mary’s father and then another hug.

Gary wondered how he had outlived his wife when visits like this had been killing him since they were married. A painful lunch at Mary’s favorite restaurant followed. His mother-in-law was especially skilled at filling airspace with conversation that was not remotely offensive or interesting.

Becky’s dating a new guy. She always envied her sister for snatching a good guy like you up so quickly, and who knows maybe this is him. Gary felt immense sympathy for the man he’d never met.

Oh look at this menu, is it any wonder Mary’s stomach was so sensitive. Just look at all these fried foods. She closed the menu and this time spoke in the tone that actually required a response.

“Did the doctors ever call you back with more conclusive evidence about what happened to her?”

There was a slight pause. “They just keep telling me that she had a stomach disorder and that she must have gotten a hold of some bad meat or fish or something, and the two working together were too much for her.”

You know, the girl I buy all my jewelry from? You know at those parties they have? She said her uncle died in a very similar way.

Mary’s father peered through his bifocals at the menu, then pocketed his glasses and began to gaze around the restaurant. Gary noticed he wasn’t wearing his hearing aid. So without his glasses the old man was now blind and deaf for this little outing. “Lucky bastard” Gary thought.

Mary’s mother spent the rest of the afternoon regaling him with the recent news of Mary’s relatives, who he had never been able to keep straight. As he returned to his home, he removed his sweater with a low moan and went to hang it on the hooks that sat beside the hall mirror. He stopped for a moment and looked at it hanging alone there and looking down he realized all the other coats had fallen off their hooks onto the floor. This hadn’t happened before, and he tried to remember if he’d slammed the door. He picked up the coats and neatly placed them back on the hooks.

Within an hour he’d built a fire and was sitting in his high back chair getting lost in the flames when a thought occurred to him. He jumped from his chair and ran to the black lacquer entertainment center which was always bigger than he wanted it to be. He flung open a side cabinet that revealed at least a hundred DVD’s. Intermingled among his documentaries and French New Wave films were his wife’s movies.

The fire burned with stranger colors, but was sweeter with her Julia Roberts comedies and Bruce Willis action films fueling it. As he sat imagining the nagging he wouldn’t have to hear, out of the corner of his eye he saw movement beneath the carpet. He cocked his head and waited for a moment thinking it a mouse. Quietly he rose out of his chair and crept over for a closer look. The carpet was still, but on the other end of the room, a nightstand rocked enough to make the lamp atop teeter precariously. He dashed toward the lamp steadying it. He looked beneath the table, inspecting the legs, pulling the carpet up from underneath, but there was nothing. He’d have to call the exterminator in the morning. He stepped astride his chair and took one last sip of his drink, turned off the lights and went to bed. After he’d left the room, a framed photograph was bucked from the mantelpiece and crashed to the marble apron in front of the fireplace. Gary didn’t hear the glass shatter as he was already upstairs, but the frame was destroyed and the photo of his wife now lay amidst the glass exposed.

Gary was shaken awake and a squint at the alarm clock told him it was a little before three AM. “Earthquake” was his first thought, but as he reached for his glasses and peered into the darkness beyond the foot of his bed he saw it. A lump roughly the size of a cat was darting across his bedroom beneath the carpet. He switched on the lamp thinking his nighttime apparition would vanish, whether it was real or imagined. But the light only seemed to agitate it as it scrambled from corner to corner of his room, bumping into a table and knocking it over, spilling family artifacts and a candle onto the lush white carpet. Gary looked quickly around the room for something to defend himself and had to resort to unscrewing a bed post and wielding it like a baseball bat.

The lump headed for his wife’s dresser, and this time, the lump shrank down beneath the corner. There was a pause until the lump grew again so fast that it lifted the dresser from the back and threw it forward. Drawers opened briefly until the dark oak bureau hit the flour with a thunderous thud and slammed them shut again.

Gary leaped from his bed and headed for the hall never turning his back on the lump. He slammed the bedroom door shut and stood breathing heavily in the hall. Then, to his left, he heard a thud. Down at the far end of his hallway, he could see another lump clumsily zig-zagging it’s way toward him. It certainly wasn’t moving toward him with purpose, as it spent more time colliding with the walls, knocking down family photos and various knick-knackery his wife had hung. He quickly made his was toward the stairs and when he turned toward the first floor to head for the exit his eyes turned down. Before him on every step of the stairways was a lump violently thrashing back and forth beneath the carpet. His staircase had become a churning sea of carpet.

The hallway lump was bumping its way closer to him. He had to get down those stairs. Suddenly, he remembered the bedpost in his hand. He lifted it above his head with both hands and brought it crashing down onto the top step. He found his target and with a quick shriek the lump burst into a bluish-grey spatter staining the carpet and the walls on either side. He stepped onto that top stair, his bare feet squishing in the remains of his first victim and he swung again. Once he’d mashed his way down four stairs Gary was able to vault over the railing to his right and make it to the phone in the kitchen.

He dialed 911, but even before the connection had been made he hung up. What would he tell them? Was he going crazy? Was this just a dream? Was this part of the post-traumatic stress of discovering his wife’s lifeless body?

As he set the phone back on the receiver, he heard noise above him. Looking up he saw the lumps were streaking down the wall paper. Not with the blind clumsiness of the other lumps he’d seen, but with direct and speedy force. The largest one was directly above him and as it forced its way behind the phone, the phone popped off the wall and launched right into Gary’s temple. The last thing he heard was the bell inside the phone giving a single ding of pain as it and Gary fell onto the tan, linoleum floor.

His eyes flew open a few hours later as the phone rang him awake. His head pounded but he was alert and quickly scanned the floor and walls for his adversaries. Then, it struck him that the phone’s ringing was coming from the wall. The phone was back in it’s appropriate place. He stood warily and answered.

“Hello?”

“Gary, honey? Did I wake you up?”

“Um… yes.”

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I just wanted to ask you if it’d be alright if I stopped by to pick up a few personal pictures of Mary’s. I’m making a scrapbook of her life as a part of my coming to terms with the loss and I know she has some pictures from her childhood.”

“Uh… yeah, I guess that’d be fine.” Gary stepped into the downstairs hall as far as the phone cord would allow, and he gazed at the stairs. No lumps, no bluish-grey stains. Just peaceful order.

“Okay, well I’ve gotta run some errands, so I’ll be over in an hour or so.”

“Okay. Bye.”

He hung up the phone and began to lightly tread through his house looking for his new house guests or any evidence of their activity, but he found none. The dresser had been restored. The photos and personal items were back on walls and tables. The carpets were all tightly tacked down. He replaced the bed post which was still laying in the kitchen floor, and he nursed the bruise the phone had given him.

He went to sit in his high-back chair to collect his thoughts, but before his weight was even completely situated in the leather, he caught sight of something laying directly in front of the fireplace. It was a picture frame that had a photo of his wife. He recognized the frame, but the glass was shattered and the photo was, in fact, gone.

Gary didn’t have long to consider what might have happened to it because there was a knock at the door.

Mary’s parents. His mother-in-law peered through the window and waved perkily. He quickly scanned the house looking for the lumps, half hoping half dreading that they’d make an appearance for his in-laws. He opened the door and the noise began.

Good morning, sweetheart. Oh, what did you do to your head? Let me get some ice for that. You don’t look so good, have you been sleeping okay? I haven’t slept since her funeral, doctor had to give me the extra strength sleeping pills. Her voice drifted into the kitchen but didn’t stop. Oh, baby! You don’t have anything in this kitchen. You need some food. What are you eating?

“Roger…”

Adept at noticing the difference between the chatter and words meant to conjure a response, Gary’s father in law perked up a bit. “Yes?”

“Let’s take Gary to the store right now and help him get some of the basics together and then we’ll all have lunch right here how’s that sound?”

“Oh, no that’s not necessary, really…”

“I know it’s not necessary. I want to do it, silly. Roger, get Gary’s sweater for him.”

“This is very kind, but really…”

“Oh, I won’t hear of it. My therapist says I’m still wracked with guilt about not teaching Mary to eat healthy enough with her condition. It drives me crazy that I still don’t know what she ate that gave her all that trouble this last time.”

Gary interjected. “You can’t take that on yourself, who knows what combination of foods might have…”

His father-in-law piped in, “Where’s the sweater?”

“It should be right on that hook by the door” his wife said. “Oh… it looks like all your sweaters and coats have fallen off the hooks.”

Gary whipped around concerned that the lumps have been knocking things off walls again. She was right, the hooks were empty. His eyes darted around the foyer looking for the culprits.

“Here they are!” his mother-in-law said.

“What?!” Gary half-screamed.

“Your sweaters. They’re on the floor.” She handed him one and hung up the others. “So are you ready to head to the store?”

“Sure, I guess.” Gary answered anxious to leave the house.

She began her chatter again, and it was almost comforting to Gary. You know sometimes when you’re mourning even the mundane details of life can throw you off. Like grocery shopping. It’s okay, we’re gonna help you through this, sweetheart.

Gary stepped toward the door when he heard his father-in-law’s voice behind him. “Son. Is this yours? I think it fell out of one of your sweater pockets.”

Gary stiffened. Suddenly, he wished he was fighting the lumps again, for they were an unknown, a mystery. What Gary knew was in his father-in-law’s hand was a known, a tragedy about to happen.

His mother-in-law retraced her steps back into the house toward her husband. “Is that a bottle? What is it?”

The old man cleared his throat and looked at Gary. “It’s poison. And it’s empty.”

Painful Foliage

I gaze in wonder at the turning of green to gold,
The shedding of a summer's cloak.

"Does it hurt?
Does the display we chart on 'Peak Maps' mask a painful process?"

I've not yet met a morphosis that came without a price.
My soul account is still in the red,
indebted by past moves from here to there.

But I'd pay again.

When my pride and delusions are being plucked leaf-by-leaf
Leaving me exposed, nude
And shivering in the whipping winter winds
I can't hide a secret delight at the sight of leaves lying at my feet.
Lies and cheap adornments in a colorful pile at my roots,
And I reach for the heavens with open arms.

So, each Autumn, I hear them now with wiser eyes.
Foliage is not yellows and reds,
But screams and sobs,
Glorious and melodius moans of change gone horribly right.

The Glory That Lies Beneath; My Play's World Premier

I recently attended a symposium of roughly 30 writers, directors, and producers who call themselves “Christian.” For five days we talked about our voice, explored the nature of the Christian Artist and tried to determine how God wanted this group to speak to a world in need.

In addition, five brand new plays were read in front of the entire group for analysis and possible production. Welcome to Justice, my first play, eight years in the making, saw its “world premier” (of sorts) at Stone Mountain, Georgia.


The Historic Tattoo
Stone Mountain State Park is an anomaly among anomalies, a beautiful natural wonder upon which the leaders of a failed secession have been etched in grand fashion. Upon viewing the granite mound I couldn’t help but wonder if even local natives don’t second-guess the decision to permanently brand such a beautiful place with a memorial honoring ideals that few still uphold. No matter how skillfully Robert E. Lee, Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson, and Jefferson Davis were etched into the side of this enormous rock, the image feels like an embarrassing tattoo proclaiming undying love to a previous girlfriend.

The park that surrounds the memorial is a hodge-podgery of kitsch and culture-gone-by. A sky ride, a riverboat, a 19th Century shopping village, amphibious tour buses and an oddly placed carillon are just a portion of the sundry attractions of this park that can’t decide if wants to celebrate history, nature or commercialism.

The rock itself however, is the main attraction and despite the carving that a Yankee like me has trouble appreciating, it is a geological marvel. The granite mound juts up 825 feet into the air and covers 583 acres. It is the world’s largest piece of exposed granite. But what is even more interesting is the part of the mountain that can’t be seen. The mountain continues 10 miles down into the Earth. When Atlanta was constructing its subway, some 15 miles away, outcroppings of the mountain often interfered.

God, the Stage Mom
On the first day of the symposium, we were given time alone to let God answer a number of questions through prayer time and scripture. The first of these questions was “What breaks the heart of God?”

I left our hotel and walked to the lawn that sits long and green in the shadow of the civil war icons. As I opened my Bible, I found myself in Romans 8.

Verse 18, “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”

When I’d read this verse previously, my cognition trailed off toward the end. I assumed it simply meant “we’re sad now, but some day we’ll be happy.” But on the lawn that day, I read the end of the verse. “The glory that will be revealed in us.” It’s not saying we’re just going to be happy, Paul is saying that incomparable glory will be revealed in us. And of course, if it’s going to be revealed, that means that it’s there now, it’s just hidden.

I have a four-year-old son who is the most adorable creature known to man, with, perhaps, the exception of my two-year old son. I love watching people fall in love with him. I tried to imagine what it would be like if I had to watch him meeting people with his glory hidden, wearing a mask or smelling like fish. I’d be dying to rectify the solution so that people might see his glory as I do. God must be like a stage mom as he watches us, wishing he could come and straighten our tie, or give us a boost of confidence so we can shine for Him. God answered my question. Seeing us walking around with our glory hidden is what breaks the heart of God.

Shining Like the Sun
Thomas Merton says that if we could see each other as God does, we’d realize we’re all walking around shining like the sun! We have no understanding of the beauty that lies within us. Seeing only a part of our own glory, we build sky rides and 19th Century shopping villages to distract those who might cast their gaze upon us.

I sat on the lawn that day doubting the scope of my God’s love, not comprehending how God could see humans as so precious. I closed my eyes and I prayed this prayer:

“God, let me see someone as you see them.”

When I opened my eyes, I looked to my right and saw two middle-aged women walking down the lawn. There was nothing unique about them, but for a few moments, God let me see them through his eyes, and they truly did shine like the sun. I knew nothing about them, but I sensed His immense love seething through me for these women. Then, I imagined God looking down on me with those same eyes, and I wept.

He sees me, not just the small piece of exposed glory, but the glory that runs ten miles deep. I returned to the symposium a changed man.

The Reading
The next day was my reading. And the play that has consumed my imagination for the last quarter of my life was “passed on” by the producers that were there that day. However, the general consensus was that while they were not particularly interested in the script, they were very interested in the author.

They didn’t like the carving, but they were impressed with the rock. The old me might have been quite saddened by their decision, but the new, glorious me understands that below the surface, there is an infinite supply of granite upon which to carve my next work.

The Man I Want to Be (Tolerates dull books)

Stupid freaking' Schoolhouse Rock! That's where the problem started. Because of these cleverly-scored educational nuggets wedged between The Gummi Bears and Zoobilee Zoo, I discovered at a very early age, that learning didn't have to be a painful exercise in discipline or attention span. If it were well done, you could have fun learning. On the bright side, I can, to this day, regail you with the steps it takes for a bill to become a law, but on the down side, I can't force myself to endure anything that smacks of dry no matter how important I believe it to be.

After my recent decision to trepedatiously enter the world of screenwriting, I've started on Robert McKee's seminal work Story to make sure that I am writing a better first draft than my last full length piece. (A stage play, now in its fifth draft.) Story is supposed to be THE BIBLE for WRITERS. But for the life of me, I find I can't connect with this book. The language is so horrifically dull that things going on in the room around me invariably steal my attention. (like ceiling fans)

But it's not the books fault; at least, not entirely. I have this problem with other endeavors as well. There's a host of critically worshipped films that bore me to tears. And it's certainly not all their fault if hosts of other people are deeply moved by their experiences with these films. Of course, there's the ACTUAL Bible. I want to love it, I want to thirst for its words and long for its wisdom. But every time I sit down with it I find myself feeling as though I'm eating spinach.

There is a scripture that talks about God giving you the desires of your heart (I think it's in Ephesians) and for a long time I thought that meant He'd give you what you want. But of course, the passage doesn't say it will give you the objects of the desires of your heart, but rather the actual desires of your heart. In other words, he doesn't give you what you want, he gives you wants. And so, I find myself praying not so much for the things my heart desires, but for the desires I know I should have.

Then perhaps I'll be more likely to engage Story with wrapped attenton, or Bresson films, or the Word of God, and less likely to give up on them and start hunting for my DVD copy of Conjunction Junction.

THE VIDEO STORE OF THE SOUL

The following is a rewrite of an article I published a few years ago for Relevant Magazine. They asked for this version for their "college edition," which was handed out by the tens of thousands to college students on state campuses around the country.

If I had a video store, it would have one section: Movies. I’m not sure what effect that would have on business, but it would certainly reflect a lesson I’ve been learning and relearning from the moment I began thinking for myself. The lesson is this: Life is one category.

It seems simple enough, and hardly earth-shattering, but as I think about its implications, I find myself awe-struck by the possibilities of a life lived from this mindset. Have you read books in literature courses for which your English professor needs the help of a history professor to explain the historical context? Have you wandered aimlessly up and down the supermarket aisle designated “Sauces” looking desperately for soy sauce only to discover that it’s actually kept in the “Ethnic Foods” aisle? Are you left cold by church services or bands whose sole purpose is to feed your soul, and yet feel close to God watching the sun set, driving alone at night under a full moon, or even watching a Children’s movie? The reason for all these quandaries is the same: Life is one category.

GOD PENCILED IN
Oprah and Post-modernism in general, have given us the permission to talk about and even experience the spiritual without being thought of as deceived or insane. However, we’re still using a modernist “day timer” approach to where we think God can be encountered. We’ve placed God in a category that includes smiley men in suits on late-night cable and attending Mass with our parents when we go home for a visit. Unfortunately, many conclude that if God is not found in those places, he’s probably not found anywhere. In truth, if God was limited to those places, He’d be as bored there as you and I sometimes are.

LOOKING UNDER ROCKS
We’ve all heard that God is everywhere, but of course, the original intent of this adage was to make sure we weren’t beating up our little brother when our parents weren’t looking. However, not only is God everywhere, but he can be encountered in almost anything. If you buy into God as a creator (whether in six days or six million years), you’ll realize that the exploration of any part of his creation is ultimately the study of the master artist. Jay Kesler, the president of Taylor University used to say, “There is no rock under which you’ll discover something large enough to eat your God.” If what you’re experiencing is truth, God isn’t only aware of it; He made it so.

LET’S GET SPIRITUAL
Psychologist, Paul Tournier claimed that we have created an image of mankind that is, in essence a list: physical, emotional, mental and spiritual. Tournier would argue that spirituality should not be on that list but at the center of the other three. It is the source of our physical, mental and emotional output as well as the recipient of all input through those means. In other words, there is no way to be solely spiritual. Go ahead, be spiritual. Ready? ... One ... two ... three, go! What did you do? Trying to be spiritual away from the rest of our life is like trying to eat without any food or like trying to be a really good driver without ever going down the road. We get in and study the steering wheel and gauges, then we get out of the car and start walking down the road.

In truth, as impossible as it is to do something that is purely spiritual, it’s equally impossible to do anything that doesn’t contain some spiritual element. In the words of Evangline Paterson, “because God exists, everything has significance.” It is in the living out of our lives that our spirituality is exercised or neglected, nurtured or poisoned. Our spiritual battle is fought a million times a day in a million different ways. It is in the effort we put into our work, it’s in the music we hear on the radio, it’s in the speed with which we return our neighbor’s borrowed hedge trimmer.

A WELL-BALANCED SOUL DIET
What’s especially important to remember is that if everything has spiritual significance, there can be things that are detrimental to our spirit as well. Discernment needs to be used in what we’ll allow to have a significant impact on our souls. Whether it be films, friends, or books, too much of anything that is lacking in quality, morality or truth will begin to impact our spiritual selves negatively. Just as a diet of purely cotton candy and corn dogs will result in a physical decay of the body, a spiritual diet of teen blockbusters and time spent with “good time” friends will result in a decay of the soul.

WE LOVE OUR LABELS
Unfortunately, our long addiction to labels has stepped in at this point, and people over-concerned about what is “soul safe,” are whipping out the categories again. Opening a phone book, I can find Christian pharmacies, Christian art framing, Christian bakeries and here in my hometown someone has created a business concept out of a cheesy Christian T-shirt. The Lord’s Gym Health and Fitness Centers are dedicated to promoting “Fitness for Body & Soul” and offer classes such as Praise Dance, Body of Armor and Chariots of Fire Spin. Now, some might argue such businesses are a good model of stretching the barriers of our spiritual activity beyond Sunday morning. However, all they are doing is adding spiritual language to things that are naturally spiritual because they are part of the human experience God has created. We don’t need to label something Christian for it to be good and pure.

GOD’S COSMIC VIDEO STORE
All truth is God’s truth. If we are seeking out God in everything we do, He will inevitably show up. He doesn’t need labels or categories to find us, and we shouldn’t need them to find Him. Our categories have become the lazy person’s guide to spiritual health. We can’t get a dose of the God stuff at church, and we can’t avoid getting the God stuff outside the church. This can be both exciting and terrifying. It’s not supposed to be easy. Every experience, every person you meet and every choice you make is a part of the spiritual journey. In God’s cosmic video store there is one category: Spiritual. The good news is there are no late fees.

Delayed- Discovering that my play and my soul are works in progress

How exactly does a playwright pack? My first play was going to be produced by a company in Atlanta, and they were flying me up to help me fine tune the script. There were a few potential problems but nothing we couldn’t work out. And they were going to produce my play! So, I was playwright, but I didn’t have an ascot or pipe to my name.

I zipped up my suitcase and grabbed my borrowed lap-top, in its borrowed case and waited outside for my ride to the airport.

Fifteen minutes later. Ring. Ring. “Hello?”

“Yeah, Dad. Are you coming to bring me to the airport?”

“Oh! Forgatchya!” he grogged and he was practically disconnected before he got out the words

“I’ll be right there.”

When he arrived I had to concentrate as I greeted him not to sound supremely annoyed. I arrived at my gate in plenty of time. In fact, I was six hours early.
As we were boarding, roughly three rows before my seat assignment they stopped letting people on. They described the problem as a potential mechanical problem. The cheerleader and her family who were waiting behind me to board the plane that would bring her to some competition in Atlanta, said “Does that mean we’re going to be on a broken plane?” To which her father replied “No, it means we’ll be on a fixed plane.”

The potential problem with the airplane was, in fact, full of potential. There was a hydraulic leak in the landing gear. I bravely joked to a nearby commiserater, “I wanna take off, but I wanna land even more.” He smiled, and the passengers now “deplaning” joined us in the terminal looking as though they’d just lost the state tournament. We all settled in for a delay. The large flat screen television showed the anticipated departure time in cheerful colors and had a real time clock in the top right corner that kept catching up to the departure time. And just when it seemed it would pull alongside, the departure time would leap out in front, by half an hour, and hour, and finally by three hours.

Playwrights have to deal with this all the time, as they are jet-setting around the country. In my waiting, I met two people exactly my age. The first was a national spokesperson for the Nutrition Council of America and the second was the president of a highly successful athlete representation firm. When they asked me where I was headed, I explained quite simply, “I’m a playwright and I’m meeting with a company that wants to produce one of my plays.” We were all arriving. We were saying goodbye to youth, but having arrived, to some extent at our desired destinations. I even remember saying to the Nutrition Spokesperson “I feel better about turning 30 knowing I’ve accomplished a lot of my personal goals.”

My plane was delayed again one more time, so I furrowed my playwright’s brow and told them to get me to Atlanta because “I was done waiting.” So they put me on the next plane out of town.

I used that same line when I arrived in Atlanta and discovered my luggage was lost. They told me my bags were still on my original plane that wasn’t due for another hour. They agreed to deliver my bag later that night.

Once I was with the script development team of the theatre things seemed quite positive at first. I told them why I wrote the play and how excited I was to see my idea finally come to fruition in their April production of the show.

As we began to work, the problems and weaknesses of the script started popping up. Each one was tied to three other plot points, which meant if one was to be moved or written, the others had to be adjusted as well.

By the time we’d met for four hours Friday night and five on Saturday, it was quite clear that I had a good script that could be made excellent, but I’d have to do rewriting on to blank pages. I looked at the director and told him he should cancel the show in April. The script would be incomplete and its production wouldn’t serve the company or me if we both knew its flaws already.

As a result of pulling it from the April slot, it would not be able to be produced until 2007. Two years away. I’d have to return home and tell the dozens of people who were cheering me on, and praying for me that there would be no group trip, no charter bus to Atlanta for my premier. But worse yet, there was a personal note of disappointment. I was not a playwright. I hadn't written a full-work to completion. My play’s problems were full of potential and take off was seriously delayed.

As I fly home I remember the question of the cheerleader about our plane. And I have to admit I’d rather have a fixed play than a broken one. Just like the airline, God knew that the time was not right for my play to make its lift off. For as much as I wanted to see it in the air, I want to see it land as well.

In truth, the observations started spreading to myself. I have, in no way “arrived.” And despite how “done” I am with waiting, God’s will is not impressed by my furrowed brow. My play and I are in process and while I will eventually come up with a final draft of my play, my soul will always be best described as incomplete.

It only took me six hours in an airport, and a slight delay of a lifelong dream for God to remind me of who is the true author. But did he have to make them lose my luggage?

Graduating from the Cinematic Kids’ Table (A menu)

A List of Delectable Cinematic Treats

Did you ever try “grown-up” food when you were a kid? Whether it was caviar, brussel sprouts or even a sip of merlot, your young taste buds were so unprepared for it, you probably hesitated to try that food again, even as an adult. The same can happen with films. If you’re like most people you’ve been spoon-fed Hollywood’s baby food for so long, that anything outside of that narrow tradition will shock your system a bit. So, here’s a roadmap for those trying to move from the kids’ menu to the prime rib. (For a diner’s guide on how to properly digest great films, click here.) I’ll be listing various categories of films, and for each, giving you films in three levels of “difficulty”. (With apologies to vegetarians)

STEAK –These are the movies that just about anybody could enjoy,
but you still need a knife. These films will act as a nice introduction to the
category.
SUSHI – A little less popular, and a bit more of an acquired
taste. If you really liked the steak films you’ll need to check these out
next.
ESCARGOT – Something to shoot for, these are the films that are
considered some of the greatest in their respective fields, but are only for the
truly refined palettes.

Foreign Films – It’s important to remember that “Foreign” is not really a genre, despite what your local video store would have you believe. Grouping all foreign films together is like having a music category called “Non-Ska.” The American mindset is that every other culture is trying to catch up to and emulate ours. And while, it is unfortunately true that some other cultures have been corrupted by our values of physical beauty and materialism, there is an immense population outside our own borders with original and fantastic things to say.

STEAK (Easily digested)
Spirited Away – It’s ironic, I suppose that the first grown-up movie I’m recommending is a cartoon. But this is movie is no kids’ film! It is the largest grossing Japanese film of all time. Disney has redistributed almost all of Hayao Miyazaki’s films with pretty good English dubbing. And these stories are among the most creative you’ll ever find. Miyazaki films are like a Jacuzzi for the imagination. In fact, anime, in general, is not just for comic book geeks. There’s some great art out there. (Check out Cowboy Bebop and Kiki’s Delivery Service as well.)

The Professional – Who says action can’t be art? Luc Besson is a French director who uses light in captivating ways in this film about a professional hitman who takes in a young Natalie Portman. Exciting, funny and touching. And Portman’s acting is right up there with the great childhood performances of Leo in What’s Eating Gilbert Grape? and Haley-Joel Osment in The Sixth Sense.

SUSHI (Acquired taste)
The Man Without A Past­ – A quirky, quiet little Finnish film that takes an honest look at what life would be like with a clean slate. This film’s impact will sneak up on you and you’ll be astonished that a film from a country where people rarely smile can make you laugh.

Jesus of Montreal – This French-Canadian film follows a troupe of actors trying to put on a controversial Passion Play. Their travails start to feel very familiar after a time, and you’ll find yourself amazed at what the filmmakers have done.

Not of this World – An Italian production that follows an unlikely team, a loner Laundromat owner and a nun, that try to provide for an abandoned baby. The director does an interesting thing here. In the midst of the story, he makes each setting of the film a landscape of human life. Any scene that takes place in a set we’ve not yet seen is preceded by a snapshot photo of all the souls that work or live there. The film is tremendously aware of a world infinitely peopled, as we should all be.

ESCARGOT (Refined palette)
Dekalog (The Decalogue) – Ten one hour films, each of which take one of the Ten Commandments as their theme. Some very interesting and relevant stories.

Yi yi (One, and a two…) – A powerful Taiwanese film that follows an endearing family through issues of purpose and integrity. One of the sweetest and most powerful endings to a film I’ve ever seen. But it’s a long road to get there and those thrown off by a slow pace will not make the journey.

Also check out: Trois Coloures (Three films – Red, Blue, White)

Art house/ Independent – These are a little harder to define these days because big studios are often lurking behind independent-looking films. But loosely, these are the films that aspire to be more than mere entertainment and that usually play in the artsy-fartsy movie houses.

STEAK (Easily digested)
Ghost World – A truly fun and quirky exploration of what happens to the hip apathy of teenagers once graduation hits and they have to start figuring out how to live. A fascinating look at a generation who has defined being “cool” as being “real” and what happens when they must figure out what is, in fact, real in their own lives. Thora Birch, Scarlett Johansson, and Steve Buscemi lend familiar faces and outstanding performances.

The Big Kahuna – Profundity from lubrication salesmen. A one room drama that pits Kevin Spacey’s fast-talking cynic against a pie-eyed Christian who values sharing his faith with clients over selling them product. Danny DeVito steals the show with a nuanced performance that makes this one of his best performances. Based on the play The Hospitality Suite, by Roger Rueff, this is a must-see for all Christians.

The House of Sand and Fog – Ben Kingsley is a genius. Any film that bears his name in the cast list will have some redeeming value and he lends his formidable talent to this unique tale of a young woman whose house is put up for auction because of a town clerical mistake. Kingsley’s character, a retired colonel in the army of the Shaw of Iran, acquires the home and he and his family see it as a step on their road back to the comfortable life they once knew. Jennifer Connelly plays the troubled, evicted woman. The power of this film is in the depth of the characters. There is no villain here, just perfect examples of flawed humanity.

SUSHI (Acquired taste)
Tape – Hopefully, by now, you pay close attention to who is directing a film. If so, you’ll want to know that Richard Linklater is an important voice among American filmmakers right now. Not including his bread-winning efforts like Dazed and Confused and School of Rock, his films speak with a power and love of language like few others. Tape is another one-room drama, but one wracked with tension and soul-wrenching conflict. Married actors Ethan Hawke (a Linklater favorite) and Uma Thurman and Robert Sean Leonard chew up the scenery and the dialogue is air tight. Also check out: Before Sunrise

Wit – Along with directors, it’s always wise to find out about a film’s source material. Wit is the film version of a Pulitzer-winning one-woman play. Emma Thomson plays a turgid English professor who loves the work of John Donne and picks apart his work as though dissecting a rare specimen. But when she discovers she has cancer, she becomes the specimen, prodded and probed. This made-for-HBO film demonstrates the power of understatement. For example, the first time Dr. Bearing is asked her name she has to say it twice, and then spell it. Then she is asked "Doctor?" And she replies, "Yes, I have my PhD in 17th century litera..." The orderly interrupts, "No, your doctor's name." She replies, "Oh, Dr. Kelekian." By the end of the film, when she goes for another test, the orderly barely has a chance to open his mouth and she says "B-E-A-R-I-N-G, Kelekian". It's never addressed directly, but the language of the hospital is part of her world now, whether she likes it or not.

Lost in Translation – As an Academy Awards nominee and the long-awaited return of Bill Murray to film, many people saw this movie and their reaction to me was simply, “Hunh?” This movie certainly breaks free of the Hollywood stereotypes as it traces an odd friendship between a past-his-prime movie star and a young photographer’s wife stranded in Tokyo with nothing to do. Drawn together initially by loneliness and boredom, they soon find a mutual longing; not for each other, but for lost passion. The film’s pacing is slow, and yet, if you’re not watching closely you might miss the magic that happens here. There’s some very dry humor as well. Amazing performances by Scarlett Johansson and Bill Murray.

ESCARGOT (Refined palette)
Magnolia – Another important American director, Paul-Thomas Anderson weaves a grand tale of disparity and depravity through the lives of several characters. Hard to watch at times with an ending that may just blow your mind, Magnolia is a feast of highly discussable issues and ideas. An all-star cast includes Tom Cruise, Julianne Moore, and William H. Macy. However, Philip Seymour-Hoffman and Tom C. Riley steal the show. (One of these two actors can be found in just about every critically-acclaimed film for the past four years.)

Pi – A bizarre and hard-to-follow black and white film by Darren Aronofsky (Requiem for A Dream). It is the story of a man who is exploring the patterns in the number Pi, but who is haunted by crippling migraines and various religious and corporate groups who want to take advantage of his discoveries. The ending gets very bizarre, but there’s a grit and imagination to this film that make it well worth the journey.

Waking Life – A truly innovative film, by typically talky director/writer Richard Linklater. This film is animated, but by first filming and then drawing over the images. The effect is very surreal, which captures perfectly this ethereal exploration of existence that sometimes takes place in real life and sometimes in dream states. This one is very heavy on the philosophical lingo, but if you can make it through that, you’ll find some fascinating ideas and images throughout.

Documentary – Despite his notoriety within the mainstream, Michael Moore is certainly not the hero of this genre. His films are often regarded as too fictitious, ironically, for fans of this non-fiction genre. Documentaries are so much more vast and rich than what you’ll see on The Discovery or History Channels. They range from hysterical to horrifying to beautiful, sometimes in one film.

STEAK (Easily digested)
Spellbound – This is a favorite among just about all documentary lovers. The premise sounds ridiculous, but it ends up being a riveting, often hysterical tale of eight contestants in the National Spelling Bee. Each child comes from a different socio-economic background and area of the country so that the film gives an interesting cross section of the next generation. The contestants range from a socially stillborn boy who jokingly asks if the microphone is edible to an Indian-American whose grandfather has paid 5000 people in their homeland to be praying for him in the 24 hours leading up to the contest. This film is a perfect introduction to documentaries.

Hell House – Secular filmmakers decide to tell the story of a Texas church that puts on an enormous evangelistic Haunted House called Hell House. It is a relatively even-handed look at this strange phenomenon where a young girl, after looking at the newly-posted cast list declare to their friends “I got it! I’m the abortion girl!” and church leaders bark orders to stagehands like “Go to hell… and let them know we’re two minutes behind.” A constant juxtaposition of innocent images, like teens cheering at a football game and interviews where the same young faces are telling us “The devil is very real and evil is all around us” raise serious questions about the theological lens through which this branch of the Christian subculture sees life. And yet, there is sincerity to the passion and compassion of the people in the film that cannot be edited out. Another must-see for Christians.

SUSHI (Acquired taste)
Sound and Fury – A heart-wrenching look at the deaf community and the effect of a technology that is threatening its very existence. Deafness, to most, is seen as a disability and ridding the world of it sounds like a good idea to the hearing. However, the deaf community so loves the world and culture they’ve created there are many who hate the introduction of a new brain-implanted hearing aid. This film follows the tale of an extended family that is largely deaf, but when the hearing daughter wants to give her own deaf daughter a cochlear implant, that would essentially make her hear normally, the rest of the family is devastated, feeling she is shunning their identity.

Stevie ­­– A moving story that looks at the troubled life of Stevie through the eyes of filmmaker Steve James, who was once Stevie’s “Big Brother” and who has returned to find him far worse off then when he left. It is a scathingly honest and vulnerable look at the fimmaker’s sense of obligation to be a force in Stevie’s life. Stevie and his family are the type of people that have become the spectacle of our society, paraded in front of us for disapproval on Jerry Springer. Yet, in this film we are forced to see their humanity and simultaneously question our own for the times we’ve dismissed people like them in our own lives.

ESCARGOT (Refined palette)
Winged Migration – A stunningly beautiful video document tracing the journey of several flocks of birds as they migrate North and South. Using the glider device seen in Fly Away Home, cinematographers shot footage of these birds over hundreds of thousands of miles. And there, amidst the flock there is something so peaceful and graceful about the flap of the wings and the group formation, it’s hard not be gripped by the serenity. Then, your eyes turn to the things passing below: crumbling castles, super highways, ancient, winding rivers, the pre-9/11 World Trade Center. The audience is given, quite literally, a bird’s eye view of a world that keeps turning below them and the impact is profound. Technically, this is also a foreign film, but there is so little narration it’s hardly noticeable.

CRÈME BRULE (Only this category bears a dessert. As an offshoot of documentaries, a comedy genre has begun that has been labeled “mockumentary”. In the style of its more serious parent genre, mockumentaries are entirely fabricated stories told as though they were real events. You have to see one to really get it, but look for the driest, most intelligent humor being made today.)

Waiting for Guffman, Best in Show, A Mighty Wind – Christopher Guest has assembled a highly-talented group of improvisational actors that periodically get together and poke fun at various subcultures. They are listed above in chronological order and his targets respectively have been small town community theatre, dog shows, and folk singers. As he continues making the films he creates his characters with more and more compassion. And what started out as an endeavor to merely garner laughs has resulted in some meaningful explorations of humanity, that are still funny as hell.

Zelig – One of Woody Allen’s lesser-known films, this one is especially fun for American history buffs. It is the story of a man with a medical malady that causes him to take on the characteristics of those around him, both physical and mental. Labeled the Human Chameleon, he becomes an international craze. A young woman psychiatrist takes an interest in him and in one of their sessions, he begins taking on the characteristics of a psychiatrist. He says that he worked with Freud for a time, but that they “split over the issue of penis envy. Freud thought it should be limited to women.” In the midst of this tale that explores issues of personal identity and our desire to please others, Allen drops in a few hysterical zingers to keep us on our toes.


Classic and Older Films - This is another category that has quite a range to choose from. We have the bad habit of treating movies like disposable art, and if they were not made in the last 10 years that they are hardly worth our time. A popular Christian online magazine recently published a list of The Most Profound Movies Ever Made, and to this reader’s shock and horror all of the films were from 1993 or later. With that in mind, I realize that anything before 1985 is fair game when it comes to older films you probably haven’t seen.

STEAK (Easily digested)
Harvey - A delightful comedy with an outstanding performance by Jimmy Stewart, who plays Elwood P. Dowd, a likable chap who believes he is accompanied by a six-foot invisible rabbit. This movie harkens back to the days when comedies had more to offer than flatulence gags. Dowd and Harvey espouse and a way of life, and if you’re caught up in their spell you may start to see the rabbit too.

Rear Window – Brushing up on your Alfred Hitchcock films is an occasion where the medicine is both good for you and tastes great. It is important to know the work of Hitchcock, but almost all his films are a lot of fun. Rear Window is my favorite because of the white-knuckle moments (When I show this in my film appreciation class, I have high school students shouting out warnings to the characters onscreen) and because of the divine Grace Kelley. Many great Hitchcock trademarks, including one of his more obvious cameos. In my opinion, the most famous Hitchcock films (Psycho, The Birds) are not his best. Instead check out: North by Northwest.


SUSHI (Acquired Taste)
Annie Hall – Woody Allen is another director with which you need to become familiar. However, try to see his films from before 1988 or so. His films, of late, have been purely mean-spirited satire with little of the playful voice or hope found in his earlier films. Annie Hall was his most critically-acclaimed film and his only Best Picture Oscar. Here’s a taste of his classic, neurotic wit, “I was thrown out of N.Y.U. my freshman year for cheating on my metaphysics final, you know. I looked within the soul of the boy sitting next to me.” What Hitchcock is to suspense, Allen is to irony. He wields it to move us, to slay society’s monsters and to reward us with laughter along the way. Also check out: The Purple Rose of Cairo, Crimes and Misdemeanors, and Manhattan)

The Conversation – This is by no means an ancient film, but off the map of today’s commonly viewed films. This is the only film where Gene Hackman is called upon to play more than an angry bull dog and he does it quite well. Francis Ford Coppola made this film about a professional eaves dropper facing a moral dilemma after finishing Godfather, but before starting Godfather II. Those two films usually overshadow this one, but he was clearly at the top of his game as the direction is simply brilliant, especially in his use of sound and repetition. This is a little-known gem of a movie.

ESCARGOT (Refined palette)

Citizen Kane – The nearly undisputed greatest American film ever made. This one is a study in cinematography utilizing camera angles, editing, and elaborate set devices all in the service of visual storytelling. It is a highly unauthorized send-up of the life of real life newspaper tycoon, William Randolph Hearst. The film was almost destroyed by this powerful man when he learned of its existence and he pretty much single-handedly destroyed the career of auteur-prodigy Orson Welles. After watching it, be sure to catch the documentary The Battle Over Citizen Kane, available on the widely released DVD version of the film and then the excellent commentary by Roger Ebert. You’ll learn enough about filmmaking from those three viewing experiences to make you a relative expert compared to your friends at the water cooler.

A Man for All Seasons – This is a stirring film about the Chancellor of England around the time when Henry VIII concocted a denomination that wouldn’t look so harshly on his divorce and new bride-to-be. Sir Paul Scofield puts forth a Herculean performance as the principled Thomas More. There is so much power when he utters the lines of conviction like “This country is planted thick with laws from coast to coast. Man's laws, not God's. And if you cut them down - and you're just the man to do it - do you really think you could stand upright in the winds that would blow then?” Another excellent viewing for Christians.

Graduating from the Cinematic Kids’ Table (A guide)

Strategies for Watching the Great Films

You enter the theater ready for a film to take you in. The lights dim, the seats around you fill, and the smell of popcorn on other people’s breath is almost bearable because of the experience you’re about to have. But, of late, the experience has hardly been worth the time and money and is never worth the popcorn breath. Movie-going lately has begun to make you feel like you’re trapped at the kids’ table on Thanksgiving Day. Your knees don’t quite fit under your Aunt Sophie’s card table and as the movie patron’s to the left and right of you blow bubbles in their chocolate milk the aromas from the grown-ups’ table begin to waft in your direction. The adult fare appeals to you and you look longingly in the direction of the dining room table, but you have no idea how to make the switch.

This is the story of thousands of cinematically discontented souls. They are tired of the clichéd, over-sweetened Hollywood offerings and they know there’s more out there. But they’re either afraid to try something unfamiliar or they’ve tried to approach great films without a proper guide. They tried the caviar and of course, they hated it, and retreated back to the hot dogs and hamburgers served at a theater near them. The truth is that there is much more to film than what 90% of America is seeing. Beyond the films of Jerry Bruckheimer and Ron Howard lies a lush forest of diverse and rewarding cinematic art. However, “going it alone” with no game plan will almost certainly result in frustration. There are strategies, highlights and insights that should be considered before popping the French classic Ordet into the DVD player and hoping for the best.

Your Favorite Movie Might Suck

Before the journey begins, however, it is important to first dispel a myth about film. Since it is the art form of the masses, and there are so many viewpoints about what makes a great film, most people have come to the conclusion that any opinion is as valid as the next. This is not entirely true. While no one would attempt to lessen the importance of a personal experience another person has with a film, there are standards of good filmmaking that have to do with effective direction, cinematography, dialogue, plot, acting, lighting, sound, editing, music and much more. The people understand a good deal about each of these areas will often have a better idea of whether a film is truly “great” or not. Of course, there are differences of opinion even between the people who know the most about movies. However, it’s interesting to note there is usually agreement about the specific merits or detriments of a film and disagreement usually stems from differences of opinion about how important those good or bad elements are to the film.

The Spiritual Discipline of Good Taste

Finally, nurturing artistic tastes is more than an exercise in increasing your enjoyment of film, it is, in fact, a spiritual endeavor. If God is the first and greatest artist, than all art is in fact, an imitation of his very nature, and the more people understand and appreciate filmmakers’ efforts at playing “creator”, the more they’ll understand about their God and their world. Art appreciation is the sister of theology, whether the appreciator knows it or not. If it is true, it is God’s and therefore, it is worth personal investment.

Hollywood Has Programmed You

It is old news that attitudes greatly impact perception of events, and film viewing is no different. In fact, the bulk of Hollywood filmmaking has so programmed its audiences that even the slightest divergence from the formula has viewers bristling. This has a dual effect. It makes the larger populous rave about the films that fit in the Hollywood schema and it makes them crucify those that do not. As a result, anyone wishing to wander off the safe, paved road of films must be prepared for the prejudices easy walking has implanted in him. There are several things that most viewers find very irritating or intolerable because they are so accustomed to something different.

Subtitles
The first of these prejudices is subtitles. Most of this generation’s opposition to subtitles is a throwback to previous generations’ attitudes that films should be purely entertainment. “Words on the screen mean I have to think.” First of all, subtitles barely rely any extra thinking. People who can read, will read automatically. A literate individual cannot look at a word and not read it. It is instinctive. A driver on a highway has roughly 20-30 seconds to view a billboard filled with information, yet they are able to read and process all of it in that time. Secondly, if someone is truly looking for films where they don’t have to think, there’s no need to move to the greats, the current box office fodder is perfectly suited for mindless viewing.

Pacing
The second prejudice that’s a major obstacle is pacing. Hollywood has programmed its audiences perfectly. They could set their watches to the plot twists, car chases, one-liners and romantic episodes. In fact, many producers and directors don’t even read an entire script when considering it. They know that the first conflict should be somewhere between pages 8-10, the love interest will be on pages 27-30, and so on. Older films, art house films, and foreign films do not follow this trend. Some of them take their sweet time getting anywhere. And many would argue they are better for it. Be prepared that a film that feels “slow or dull” may be intentionally designed in a way to produce a solemn, peaceful or wistful mood. If there are no car chases in the first twenty minutes, it’s probably on purpose.

Black and White
The next big prejudice is black and white films. In any living room in America, when a movie begins and the first shot shows no visible colors, someone in the room invariably groans, “Is this whole thing gonna be in black and white?” Most people believe that black and white film making is a primitive form of cinema and that movies have long-since moved beyond it. “If the Good Lord meant for movies to be in black and white, he wouldn’t have invented Technicolor.” Right? Not exactly. While it’s true that color was not an option for films in the first half of cinema’s lifespan, many directors still opt for it today. It is no longer seen as a lesser form of film, but rather an alternative to typical full-color films. In fact, it is often effective in communicating a mood or theme (the interplay of shadow and light, simplicity or the absolutes of good and evil) that color couldn’t convey as effectively.

Outdated acting and visual effects
The last cinematic prejudice that should be overcome is outdated acting and visual effects. Indeed, much of the acting from films before about 1965 looks downright ridiculous. However, remember that the current generation is obsessed with realism. The actors must be so real that television audiences have opted for people that aren’t acting at all in Reality TV shows. Even imaginary characters must be extremely convincing. Many complained that the CGI Spider-man didn’t seem affected enough by gravity as he webbed his way from skyscraper to skyscraper. Um…He’s not real! When viewing older films, it’s helpful to remember that often the realism of the event was not as crucial as the story or tone of the piece. As for visual effects, older films do require the viewer to suspend disbelief a bit further for the good of the narrative, but with the really great films, it’s definitely worth it.

Prejudice Attack Strategy
The key to attacking these prejudices is to hit them one at a time. You don’t want to start with Kurasowa’s Ikiru, because it’s subtitled, black and white, slow-moving, and contains almost laughable performances by its primary actors. Pick films that have only one “strike” against them. The Elephant Man, for example is black and white, but it is in English, and the acting is exemplary. The pacing is a little slower than one might be used to, but it’s a great starter film for overcoming the black and white obstacle. Ideally, when someone sees enough films with the “offending” element, not only will it no longer hinder her enjoyment of the films, but may perhaps become part of what she appreciates about them.

Setting the Stage for a Successful Viewing

It would be a serious mistake to believe that a proper mindset is all that’s required to have a good movie experience. The setting is equally important. The W’s of film watching go beyond the obvious “What”; of equal importance are the Where, With whom and When.

Where
Whenever possible, a film should be watched in a theatre. There are some fantastic art houses in most every major city that show great films from times gone by, countries far away and filmmakers well out of the mainstream limelight. (Look for one near you here.) If you can’t see a film on the silver screen, rent it and be sure to get the widescreen version if possible. A television is not the same shape as a movie screen, so to fill the TV screen with picture; pieces of the frame are trimmed from the top, bottom, and sides. The so-called “full-screen version” of a film, ironically, is not the entire original shot, and not how the filmmakers intended the film to be seen.

The bad news is, once a person decides to see these films they’ve removed themselves from the largest movie-watching demographic. Acquiring these films at Blockbuster or Hollywood Video is not always easy. However, there are a few alternate sources for movie viewing. The library is an invaluable resource for older and foreign films. For the newer independent films, and for hard-to-get foreign films and documentaries, there are two outstanding DVD subscription services (http://www.netflix.com/ and http://www.greencine.com/) that have an enormous stock that will include more obscure titles. If these services don’t have the film, it may not be available for North American DVD players. This part of the world has been determined Region 1 and almost all DVD players sold here will play only those discs.

With whom
It’s so important that anyone approaching a great film does so with movie-watchers equally dedicated to the cause. If a fellow film-viewer is not ready to look past some of the prejudices mentioned earlier, he will start to hem and haw early on in the film, and this will only detract from the experience. Secondly, it is crucial to find a comrade who’ll reserve judgment on the film at least until it’s over (even better if he/she waits a few days to allow further processing.) Anyone who says “This is stupid” or “I’m bored” before a movie is over is not giving the film the attention and patience it deserves. Until a suitable companion is found, it may be wisest just to watch these films alone.

When
It is clear that a person’s state of mind when watching a film is integral to the amount of value and meaning he takes from it, so it is crucial that anyone engaging a challenging film be aware of his mindset while watching. If the viewer finds himself getting drowsy during the film, it might be wise to stop it and resume it at another time. The piece-male viewing certainly does not a bad film make. In the same way that many books cannot and should not be read it one sitting, many of the greatest films may take a number of viewing times to make it through. And, of course, multiple viewings are always recommended. Especially if a film is hard to understand or disliked, it is very valuable to revisit it despite feelings of frustration on the first viewing. It’s important to find a time when disruptions will be minimal and brain functioning will be optimal.

Discussion; Getting Your Hands Dirty in the Film

Often more rewarding than viewing a film, is meaningful discussion about a film. And those admitting they are learners in the process will reap the greatest benefits. There are far too many people whose only purpose in discussing films is to voice their opinions on every film they’ve ever seen. When a person moves past the “liked it” and “hated it” form of discussion and starts analyzing what a film is trying to do, how it is trying to do it, how effectively it does it, and whether it is worth doing, then he has become a true student of the art form. It is, in fact, quite common that a person’s opinion of a film will change after they’ve discussed it. And that’s okay. It will often be that a person was either charmed or disenchanted with a film on first viewing, and discussing it with others will help her see elements or themes she may not have noticed that change her overall opinion of the film. However, whenever one’s overall opinion of a film is challenged it’s wise to watch the film again with the “challenger’s” thoughts in mind and see how the initial opinion holds up. No one is required to like films that are widely considered “great”. However, it would be foolish for a viewer to dismiss a classic or critically-acclaimed film as “lousy” just because it didn’t connect with her in a single viewing.

There is an outstanding web discussion on film and other art forms at http://www.artsandfaith.com/ that would be great place to start. The participants range from professional critics to filmmakers to just plain old film lovers. These are very intelligent folks who know their stuff when it comes to movies, but they are also a welcoming bunch. They’ve just published a fascinating list of the Top100 Spiritually Significant Films, most of which are definitely “grown up” fare. However, face-to-face interaction is so valuable, as well. A recent addition to the mid-west’s Cornerstone music festival is a concurrent film festival entitled Flickerings in which films are viewed and discussed and lectures are given on various directors and film movements. But even a film discussion group based out of a church or local bookstore can be extremely rewarding.

Once You’re Had Great, You’ll Never Go Back

Once someone has truly engaged a few great films, she’ll start to recognize the power and meaning in the higher forms of the art. It will be hard to go back to the kids’ table. Many “popular” films will be ruined forever by someone who has “seen the light.” Just like Plato’s cave-dwellers, the shadows on the wall aren’t nearly as impressive once the three-dimensional world has been experienced. However, it’s important to maintain a gracious attitude. There can be great truths found in popular Hollywood movies, and it would be wrong to minimize a person’s personal experience with a movie, even if most critics would call that movie trash. If Speed 2 changed someone’s life, there’s no need to diminish or belittle the movement of truth or the Holy Spirit that occurred within that person while viewing that movie. However, that doesn’t make it a great film. And gentle coaxing can show him the way to the grown-ups’ table where those encounters with truth are richer and more frequent. That’s not to say there is no such thing as quality kids’ food. For example, Spiderman 2 is like a really great dish of ice cream; and grown ups like ice cream too, after all.

The Queen's Curse - A Poem about the one everyone falls for

I’ve known those like you before
With that glint that hints you have something more.
It’s not any tangible trait that I can tell
But rather the incense of a life-lived well.

And while others warm themselves by your fire
I can see the burden is making you tired.
For you have not the luxury of degrees.
You’re hopelessly over-loved or doused in jealousy.

They are drawn to the glow of your laughing heat
Sincerely sincere, completely complete
But it’s not long before the glances start
Those soul flashes that betray their bitter or longing hearts.

So, you must live on your pedestal alone,
While they want to be you, destroy you or have you for their own.
And you bravely smile, and give a soggy wink
But the view from up there is not as great as they think.

COPYRIGHT 2003

I Don't Care - A poem for teachers

by Dan Buck

I don’t care that you left it in your mom’s car,
Or that it got ruined by a melted candy bar.
I don’t care that your printer’s out of ink,
Or that last night you were way too tired to think.
I don’t care that you lost power last night
And I really don’t care to hear your homework plight.

I give you time to avoid these things
But I can’t help you once the fat lady sings.
If you should choose to procrastinate
These little problems may determine your fate
You may claim my policy mean or unfair,
You may sneer and make fun of my lack of hair
But if I let you slide with no consequences to bare
Then you would know for certain that I don’t care.

Growing-Up in Fast Forward

Snapshot: Sunday, April 27, 1998.

After avoiding studying for finals once again, I have just completed a three-hour marathon game of Madden 1997, in which I have taken the New York Jets to glory far greater than they’ll ever experience on real artificial turf. At 12:42 AM, I am enjoying an abysmal syndicated sci-fi show called Nightman with my friend in the dorm room next to mine. Another friend bursts through the door and I groan because I know. I know that he wants to make a late night run to Krispy Kreme doughnuts (an hour away) to buy a dozen and beg for some extras. And I know I will join him because, after all, we’re graduating in a matter of weeks, and this life will soon be over.

Snapshot: Sunday April 27, 2002.

After installing my new refrigerator into the home which I purchased yesterday I walk in with my eight month old son and wife to find that a vinyl hose that goes to my icemaker has split and dumped 110 gallons of water into my first home. There is not a spot of carpet that is not wet. My wife is crying, my father-in-law is flipping through the yellow pages of a neighbor I’ve just met, Rafael, to find an emergency carpet restorer and my son is drooling on my shoulder. And as I stand there watching my radically changed life working in its complexity around me, I suddenly have a craving for Krispy Kreme doughnuts.


Life has been sneaking up on lots of people my age. Study groups have been replaced with project reviews, keggers by Pamered Chef parties and dating replaced with disagreements about Animal Planet or Dawson’s Creek. Somebody has put our lives on fast forward. We’d like to think people are snickering behind our backs at the realtor’s office or at Home Depot as though we are the Doogie Hausers of domesticated living. “Look at this kid, trying to act like a grown up.” Well, the truth is, they are not snickering, and some of us look about as much like a kid as Michael Jordan looks like an NBA player. We are grown-ups, like it or not. And no matter how many albums by P.O.D. we have or how often we’ve seen Mallrats, we have unquestionably entered the world of adulthood. This, in itself, is not the scariest discovery, however. The most frightening element of this life in fast-forward is that things have become intricately and infinitely more complicated.

Which brings me to my most recent task. Homeowner’s insurance. Insurance is like a game where you must lose to win, and if you do win, you must pay more to play again. Luckily, we were insured for the accident and 72 hours after closing on my first house, I made my first insurance claim. Some kind of record to be sure. As I was on the phone with Bill, my disbelieving Claim Adjuster, I became horrified by the truths coming out of my own mouth. “Yes Bill, a one inch split in a vinyl tube smaller than your pinky flooded my entire home…. What’s that? When did the policy begin? Well, I suppose it was effective upon the closing of the house of Friday…. Hmmm, yes the flood began Saturday….Yes, that’s right, the next day…. Yes, Bill it is incredible.”

An insignificant part of the workings of my house had caused a flood that will cost thousands of dollars in repairs and a good amount of stress. The newly added components of my life, each with hundreds, even thousands of subcomponents are infinitely beyond my control. There is no way even someone with copious diligence could begin to keep track of it all, much less ensure something doesn’t go awry.

But then, after I hung up the phone with Bill, who I think believes me now, I realized the same concept that scares me should give me solace. Even if I didn’t believe in a higher power that had my best interests in mind, worrying about what will go wrong next is a fruitless endeavor that will rob me of the enjoyment of those moments where nothing is going wrong. And, in fact, I do believe in a higher power that has my best interests in mind. It dawns on me that I have once again forgotten what my job is. I follow. I seek him “and all these things…” Perhaps I should have that verse tattooed on my arm. I feel like memory-loss Lenny from memento, constantly needing to roll up a sleeve or use snapshots from my pocket to remind myself who I am. And who I am not.

As I sit in my new – now dry – home, preparing for another week at work, watching my wife bounce my son on her lap and hearing them laugh together, another flood occurs. It is supremely beyond my control and the damage it does to my fears and doubts is beyond repair. And I thank God for splits in hoses. He’s given me a priceless gift and taught me a valuable lesson this week. The gift: love. The lesson: copper tubing.

Free Baby with Every Melon-Baller

Despite what your father may have told you, there is, in fact such a thing as a free lunch. At least, this was my wife’s argument for why we should host a kitchen show in our home. For all the free stuff. However, what my wife certainly could not have forseen, was that we found out that she was pregnant approximately two hours before this kitchen show was to begin. For those of you who don’t know, a kitchen show is an in-house demonstration of miraculous cooking products that you never knew you needed until you went to the kitchen show. I allowed my wife to hold the party under the conditions that this meant she might actually cook me things and that she not become a kitchen show salesperson herself. She agreed and, at the time, it seemed to be a minimal inconvenience. However, now the day had come, I’d just found out I was going to be a father and I was far too busy trying to discover who sucked all the air out of our apartment to play happy host to a dozen giggling women.
It wasn’t long before, Bonnie the Kitchen Show Lady was at our door and quickly cluttering our immaculately decorated home with plastic containers and hip-looking utensils. As she unpacked, she told my wife of all the free things she’d be receiving. That word “free” suddenly had new meaning to me. In roughly nineteen short years, I’d be looking at college tuition.
We assumed that my wife was three or four weeks along and discretion told us not to tell too many people. However, by the time I had returned from Bonnie the Kitchen Show Lady’s car with her second load of hip utensils, she and my wife were discussing pregnancy and labor. “I had to tell somebody” my wife explained.
As the minutes passed, the guests began arriving and for a brief moment I thought that this might be a nice retreat from my worries. Here were a dozen people who had no idea what was going in my head, or in my wife’s uterus for that matter. Perhaps, it could be a welcome break from thoughts of babies and hospital bills. And yet, despite the fact that only my wife, myself and Bonnie the Kitchen Show lady were aware of the situation, there were a number of moments where someone made reference to “when you have kids” or “getting the buns in the oven”. (I’m not making this up, they really were putting buns in the oven.) And at each of these, my wife and I and Bonnie the Kitchen Show Lady would exchange knowing glances. Well, at last, salvation arrived. My friend had come with his wife. We quickly escaped and headed off to a driving range to do manly things.
Although we were free from talk of juicers and suds pumps, I found that the word “free” followed me that day. Upon arriving at the driving range, we realized that my golf clubs were not in my trunk and that we would have to rent some clubs from the establishment. However, Scott, the Driving Range Guy, offered to let us use some of the demonstration clubs for free. These were nicer clubs than a golfer like me deserved, but I accepted his offer and we began to hit. After our first Jumbo bucket, we decided to go for another and I asked Scott, The Driving Range Guy if I could buy a soda. He handed me a cold drink out of the refrigerator behind him and said “They’re complementary.” Free! I couldn’t believe my ears. I decided that this place was quite possibly Shangra-la. Here, there were no worries about babies, there were no cooking demonstrations. Instead, there were free beverages, nice golf clubs and the feeling that I was above average at something… every fifth swing.
We returned to find the women louder and more spread out. Pouring over their catalogues trying to decide how they could get the most “free stuff.” Now mind you, this particular kitchen show company holds to the motto: the more you spend, the more you save. This, if you think about it, is simultaneously paradoxical and diabolical. So, these ladies are trying to decide if they should spend twelve extra dollars on a melon-baller so that they can get the free plastic square that “magically” scrapes things off of dirty dishes.
My friend and I sat down at a safe distance from the fray and he was quickly handed his 4-month-old daughter and I was handed my 3-month-old niece. And for a brief moment, while we were sitting there with these kids on our laps, I imagined myself as a dad, gently bouncing my child around a room, showing him/her off to friends and family and having him/her fall asleep in my arms. Then, the word came to my mind again. Free. Certainly, raising a child has its sacrifices and costs. Certainly, fatherhood, as an institution, has its joys and its pains just like all of life, but the fact that I get to experience it makes me rich beyond my dreams. And I’ve done nothing to deserve such favor, I’ve not earned this privilege. It’s free.
This was certainly a timely reflection, because just then my wife showed me the list of hip utensils and plastic containers that she had ordered. The event wasn’t quite as free as she’d described it. But it would only be a matter of time before we’d be receiving a number of things we didn’t know we needed until the kitchen show and two hours before.