I shared a cigar with a prostitute tonight.
It was about 10:00 pm, and I had everything planned out: I was going to go to Wal-Mart and get Nyquill because I'm feeling sick, and then I was going to go to the Leaf (the cigar shop downtown) and get a fat cigar. I would sit in the shadows of the building, smoking, worrying about nothing. I figured if I got to the leaf by 10:30 pm, I would have plenty of time to enjoy the smoke and get back to campus before curfew. I bought the Nyquill and got to the Leaf by 10:10, only to find out that the Leaf closes at 8pm on weekdays and 11 pm on the weekEND. Damn it. I wanted to smoke bad enough that I wasn't going to just go home--I had to find somewhere that sold something.
I remembered that there was a 7-11 on Treadaway, so I headed over there. Only a few cars in the parking lot, a couple sitting on the front curb talking, and a lady that looked like she was waiting for a ride by the side of the building. She was slightly overweight, had crooked teeth, and was carrying a bag. I went in and bought a regular cigarillo from a cashier who said I looked like I was at least 18, so he didn't check me for ID.
I headed outside, grabbed my box of matches, and went to the side of the building where that lady was. As I walked past her, I realized she was intently looking at me. She asked me if I was going by the Whitten Inn, because she lived by there and needed a ride home. I lied and said I didn't know where that was. She told me. I avoided agreeing to anything by saying that I was just going to smoke, then we'll see. She seemed put out. Then she asked me if she could do anything for me, because she needed to buy some cigarettes. I knew exactly what she meant by that--she was a prostitute and was looking for work. Of course I said no, thank you. I asked her name. "Heather," she said. We shook hands.
I turned and tried to light the cigar, but being new to the whole smoking practice, I couldn't get it lit. About this time, a lady walked up from down the street and asked if I needed a lighter. She had a tattoo that said "Baby" on her arm. I thanked her and took it, but still couldn't get it lit. She said let me light it, so I gave her the cigar, she put it in her mouth, and observed the ease with which she got it lit. A car pulled up full of women that I assume was with the second lady. I don't actually remember if she get in it with them. But I realized without doubt that I had come to where prostitutes solicit themselves in Abilene at night. So what did I do? I took a seat.
I leaned up against the building and sat smoking. Heather sat down as well. This was my first experience with a prostitute that I had been aware of, and automatically I thought of the story where Tony Campollo threw the birthday party for the prostitute in the bar. So I wasn't scared of her or anything. I wanted to try to show her that I just wanted to talk, to appeal to her human side rather than get something from her. So I asked her how long she had been in Abilene. She said "7 years." "Wooo," I replied. "In this town? That's a long time." "Yeah," she said. "I'm originally from San Angelo," a town I didn't know, but is around 100 miles from Abilene. "So why did you come?" I asked. She said she moved down here with her husband so he could take care of a family member of his, either grandmother or mother. I can't remember which. "But he died on Christmas morning of '07," she said. "Oh my gosh," I gasped. "That's awful." "Yeah," she said, then switching topics almost absentmindedly. "Are you sure you don't need anything? I really need five dollars." "Yeah, I'm sure," I said with gentle sarcasm. I then decided that I'd let her have 5 dollars when I left.
"I'll buy you some cigarettes," I told her. "I have a friend who's been smoking for 4 years, and we can't smoke on campus, so I understand someone needing some badly." "Oh," she responded, "my bad." Then she laughed at mistaking me for a customer. "Where do you go to school?" I told her ACU, and then she told me how she was raised Baptist. "Do you mind if I bum off that with you?" she asked, referring to my cigarillo. "Sure, I said, and passed it over. "So," I asked, starting up another conversation, "what did you want to be? Like, what did you want to do when you were younger?" I wanted to be, like, a nurse's assistant," she said as I politely nodded. She said she liked helping people and was good at it. "And," she ended, "I actually got a job at K-Mart, and I start on Monday." "Wow," I said. "That's great! Are you nervous?" "Yeah, a little bit," she admitted. I then saw an amazing opportunity--I could go see her on her first day. I didn't know if she has family in town, but she was scared about her first day. I thought it could only make a positive impact on her if I went to her, remembered her name, and wished her luck on Monday. I felt like that could make a good impact in the name of love.
At this time, a shady man started walking towards us, and I sort of got scared. I stood up and asked if she wanted to go inside and get the cigarettes. She hesitated. "Uh, no, I'm not going to buy them here." She told me about a little place whose name I can no longer recall where everything is really cheap, and she said she was going to buy them there. I waited until Shady Man went into inside, then I pulled out my wallet and gave her five bucks. She was startled, I don't know why, and she said, "well, now I don't have to go by the Whitten Inn." This comment confused me. Nevertheless, I wished her good luck on the first day, and I got in my car and drove away.
I had several things I thought about as I drove home. First, was her asking me to take her "near the Whitten Inn" the way that she gets business? Is that prostitute terminology? Also, I wondered if she's there every night. I wondered if she had kids. I wondered where her mouth had been.
I worried about sharing the smoke with her all the way home, so much so that I came home and brushed my teeth. I don't know why I was worried--maybe I assumed she could have AIDS of the mouth or some other disease. I also wondered what male body parts that mouth had touched. Did I have a good reason to worry? Was I being unjustly cautious?
This whole experience is so strange to me, and the normality of which it unfolded adds to the strangeness. If I hadn't wanted to smoke tonight, I would have never met Heather, and I wouldn't have heard that she got an new job, and I would never have seen this opportunity to show her love. But it all just happened.
Am I being nice to her just because she is a prostitute? I think so, which saddens me. I wanted to talk to her because of her profession, but as we talked I didn't see her as what she did, I saw her as a human who has been broken and hurt by experiences in the past that lead her here. I want to show her that God loves her, even if she is used by men for sexual experiences. I thought about inviting her to church. I think I will if I see her again.
I have thought about this before, and it makes so much sense to me--smoking provides a whole new avenue of relationship. People who smoke are readily open to others who smoke. I've seen this through being around Mihir. I'm considering taking up smoking so I can get to know people who otherwise I wouldn't have anything in common with. If I do this, it will undoubtedly harm my body, I know that. But is the message of Christ worth more than that? I'm conflicted. For our Cornerstone class, we were assigned to read a letter written by Flannery O'Connor, in which she tells a college student who is uncertain about his faith that "about the only way we know whether we believe or not is by what we do." Judging by how I interacted with Heather and that I wanted her to know Christ, I guess it's safe to assume that I do believe.
Nevertheless, tonight is an experience that I will always remember.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Introducing the New Testament: Chapter 4
For the Life and Teachings of Jesus class tomorrow, I had to read chapter four in our "Introducing the new Testament" textbook. This chapter deals with the gospels. And as I read this, something inside me settled, because I felt like I was getting questions answered that had been lingering for years.
The beginning of the chapter discusses how each individual gospel is not just a neutral book written for 21st century American Christians. The books define the gospels as "'literary artworks.' Each Gospel presents a portrait of Jesus that is distinctive from those of the other three." Also, the chapter talks about how most people have a conglomerated picture of Jesus from all four of the Gospels, so that they cannot tell what is distinct about each individual gospel. I fall under that category. There are so many things that I had no idea about but assumed I did. For example, I didn't know that Matthew and Luke contain numerous stories that Mark leaves out. A theory about this is that Mark wrote his gospel first, and Matthew and Luke had a copy of it when they created their more in depth books. I had no idea!
The theory also contends that Matthew and Luke had a separate document called simply, Q (I had known about the existence of that document thanks to Odyssey. Thanks Whit for getting into trouble in the middle east! How I do is nothing great.). They assume that this document was mostly things that Jesus said. Scholars theorize that Matthew and Luke had both the book of Mark and the Q document when they constructed their pictures of Jesus.
So, theories go, Mark came first, then Matthew, then Luke, and I assume then John, however our book didn't talk about the last gospel. That was a question I had had but forgotten for a long time, what was the order of the authorship of the books?
This question leads into the deeper question of the Synoptic Puzzle, or "how these three Gospels" (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) "should be related to each other." I haven't thought about that puzzle very much, so I don't really have anything to say about it. Only that I know it exists.
With reading this chapter, I feel like the class is going to be extraordinarily helpful in my attempt to sort out the questions about the Bible, even the ones I don't remember that I have.
The beginning of the chapter discusses how each individual gospel is not just a neutral book written for 21st century American Christians. The books define the gospels as "'literary artworks.' Each Gospel presents a portrait of Jesus that is distinctive from those of the other three." Also, the chapter talks about how most people have a conglomerated picture of Jesus from all four of the Gospels, so that they cannot tell what is distinct about each individual gospel. I fall under that category. There are so many things that I had no idea about but assumed I did. For example, I didn't know that Matthew and Luke contain numerous stories that Mark leaves out. A theory about this is that Mark wrote his gospel first, and Matthew and Luke had a copy of it when they created their more in depth books. I had no idea!
The theory also contends that Matthew and Luke had a separate document called simply, Q (I had known about the existence of that document thanks to Odyssey. Thanks Whit for getting into trouble in the middle east! How I do is nothing great.). They assume that this document was mostly things that Jesus said. Scholars theorize that Matthew and Luke had both the book of Mark and the Q document when they constructed their pictures of Jesus.
So, theories go, Mark came first, then Matthew, then Luke, and I assume then John, however our book didn't talk about the last gospel. That was a question I had had but forgotten for a long time, what was the order of the authorship of the books?
This question leads into the deeper question of the Synoptic Puzzle, or "how these three Gospels" (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) "should be related to each other." I haven't thought about that puzzle very much, so I don't really have anything to say about it. Only that I know it exists.
With reading this chapter, I feel like the class is going to be extraordinarily helpful in my attempt to sort out the questions about the Bible, even the ones I don't remember that I have.
Trailers!
I love good movie trailers! I just watched two really good ones, and I have this uncontrollable happiness within me.
The first, and best, is for "It's Kind of a Funny Story." It's about a boy who admits himself into a mental hospital because he's depressed. In there, he meets Zach Galifinakis, a father who thinks his daughter is better off without him, and Emma Roberts, a girl who presents herself with a bitchy facade as a shield, at least I'm assuming. But what gets me is the music. If a trailer has a good song, it creates the best type of atmosphere. Let me explain.
Several years ago, a film came out called "Sunshine Cleaning." The movie itself seemed decent at best, relying on the fact that it was produced by the same people who did "Little Miss Sunshine." But in the trailer, the song "Crane Wife 3" by the Decemberists was used. And it was beautiful. To date, that is probably my favorite trailer, because the music perfectly fuses with the scenes presented to make an almost infinite moment. I love that trailer.
And with "Funny Story," I got the same type of feeling I get when I watch the "Sunshine Cleaning" trailer. The song used is called "Oh My God" by Ida Maria, and the upbeat, optimistic, memento mori-type atmosphere is created once again. Plus, there's a shot of the protagonist and Emma Roberts running through the hospital, which is automatically a plus, because I love it in films when people run because they are happy. I don't know why, I just do. So, great trailer find #1.
The second film doesn't have a great trailer, but the film itself will probably be great. The film is called "Somewhere," and Sofia Coppola directed it. I respect her work and look forward to her films more than most directors. Even in the trailer, I can sense the feeling of distance, of lostness, the same type of feeling that was throughout "Lost in Translation." Coppola is sublime in how she creates that feeling, but she does it extraordinarily. Plus, this is the second film she has used a Strokes' song in the trailer (this time it's a stripped-down version of "You Only Live Once" that I had never heard before).
I found these trailers through my favorite distribution company's website, Focus Features. That company selects the best films.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Cornerstone Pt. 2: Walk In My Shoes
Today Professor Kristina Campos (the lady who announces the winners at TCSIT. Yes, the "one clap" lady) gave the second Cornerstone lecture, titled "Walk In My Shoes." On stage, she had three different pairs of shoes: one of a small child, one that looked like business shoes, and a pair of TOMS with the ACU logo on the front. I recognized that the TOMS belonged to the new president of ACU.
Campos coupled her talk with an episode of "30 Days," the show that we frequently watched in Weathers' class. This one was about a border patrolman who went to live with an illegal family for a month. Each one of Spurlock's shows fascinate me, because it juxtaposes people with polar opposite ideologies.
Campos talked primarily about empathy and narrative. She said that humans learn best through stories, and I agree. She illustrated this point by telling the "stories" of the shoes on the stage. The child shoes belonged to her daughter and were worn when she took her first steps. The business shoes actually were worn by an officer who participated in over 500 funerals of fallen soldiers. And as she told these stories, I could picture the scenes she was describing. The details I saw in my head were most likely incorrect, but the stories became personal when I imagined what it looked like. Maybe this is why so many people hate movies that were adapted from books--because the characters don't look like what they had pictured in their heads, the locations are different, and the interactions are changed.
I thought more about the idea that shoes tell stories, and that is quite true. Shoes have a huge part in our lives, because they experience everything we do (unless you roll barefoot). I remember buying the pairs of slip-ons I consistently wear: Mihir and I went to Rack Room Shoes by his house because he wanted to see a friend who worked there, and I needed new shoes. They were buy one get one half off, and they were both twenty bucks. And they are really cool--they have a plaid pattern, one with almost diamond looking figures. I remember wearing them to school, and this guy in my class (a bro who played baseball with whom I had never spoke) told me they were cool as we passed each other in the hall. I don't know why I remember this experience. The diamond patterned pair I labeled in my mind as the "Abby shoes," referring to the girl I had a crush on, because I would only wear them when I knew I was going to see her. I kept them clean that way. Very, very strange behavior looking back that makes me rather embarrassed, but I accept what I did because I felt it important at that time. All this to say, shoes share our experiences.
But not just shoes. I have a shirt that says "I'm A Keeper" that I wore after Karlie Hatchett and I "broke up" (although I don't think we were ever officially dating) freshman year. I have my burgundy backpack that my sister ran over in my high school parking lot. I have my cousin's wedding shirt that says "Beast Feast" on the back, referring to the event where all the males associated with either the groom or the bride got together and barbecued with our shirts off. I feel really bizarre about that one. I have so many items that have memories linked to them, so many mementos of experiences I've had that mean something to me. I now see the necessity for Joel to relinquish every item that has a memory tied to Clementine in "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"--our lives create memories that have items bearing their significance. That's part of the reason giving movies as gifts is my favorite gift to give, because people love movies not only for the story, but the community in which they watched the movie, the memories of which the film reminds them.
And so, by "walking in someone else's shoes," we are not just putting our feet in a piece of leather--we are trying to empathize with the situations that have made them the person they are, to understand the life they are living. By learning to see other people not only as who they are, but also as a person with a history, most often different than our own, we learn to truly see people as they are. Because if we refuse to attempt to understand people, we stereotype, we assume, we marginalize, and we separate.
This is why I'm not going to try to help Mihir with how he sleeps until I understand it better. His insomnia looks, to me, like it could be easily fixed: stay awake until 9pm, then go to sleep and get up a normal hour, instead of sleeping all throughout the day. Maybe before, he didn't have good sleeping habits, and changing them could help him. Or maybe he has thoughts that keep him up at night (like he's told me before) that can't be put away in order for him to sleep. Maybe he has a condition that can't be cured by responsible habits. And see, I'm not even walking in his shoes; I don't know what it's like to have insomnia. I'm just trying to be understanding and consider the situations that have created him to be this way. It's not bad--it's just different than me.
The people that have shoes that are difficult for me to walk in are the bros. You know, the stereotypical douchebags that only care about video games, sports, drinking, and girls. I don't know how to empathize with the type of life they are living because I think it's petty and worthless. Do I need to empathize with them too?
Therefore, I think Prof. Campos chose a worthy topic to speak about, because people inherently consider the others around them. In doing so, after this speech, people will be more open to stepping out of their TOMS/Chocos/Savile's/Nikes and into someone else's shoes, and hopefully they'll be okay with the foot fungus that remains--a reminder of the lives of others.
Campos coupled her talk with an episode of "30 Days," the show that we frequently watched in Weathers' class. This one was about a border patrolman who went to live with an illegal family for a month. Each one of Spurlock's shows fascinate me, because it juxtaposes people with polar opposite ideologies.
Campos talked primarily about empathy and narrative. She said that humans learn best through stories, and I agree. She illustrated this point by telling the "stories" of the shoes on the stage. The child shoes belonged to her daughter and were worn when she took her first steps. The business shoes actually were worn by an officer who participated in over 500 funerals of fallen soldiers. And as she told these stories, I could picture the scenes she was describing. The details I saw in my head were most likely incorrect, but the stories became personal when I imagined what it looked like. Maybe this is why so many people hate movies that were adapted from books--because the characters don't look like what they had pictured in their heads, the locations are different, and the interactions are changed.
I thought more about the idea that shoes tell stories, and that is quite true. Shoes have a huge part in our lives, because they experience everything we do (unless you roll barefoot). I remember buying the pairs of slip-ons I consistently wear: Mihir and I went to Rack Room Shoes by his house because he wanted to see a friend who worked there, and I needed new shoes. They were buy one get one half off, and they were both twenty bucks. And they are really cool--they have a plaid pattern, one with almost diamond looking figures. I remember wearing them to school, and this guy in my class (a bro who played baseball with whom I had never spoke) told me they were cool as we passed each other in the hall. I don't know why I remember this experience. The diamond patterned pair I labeled in my mind as the "Abby shoes," referring to the girl I had a crush on, because I would only wear them when I knew I was going to see her. I kept them clean that way. Very, very strange behavior looking back that makes me rather embarrassed, but I accept what I did because I felt it important at that time. All this to say, shoes share our experiences.
But not just shoes. I have a shirt that says "I'm A Keeper" that I wore after Karlie Hatchett and I "broke up" (although I don't think we were ever officially dating) freshman year. I have my burgundy backpack that my sister ran over in my high school parking lot. I have my cousin's wedding shirt that says "Beast Feast" on the back, referring to the event where all the males associated with either the groom or the bride got together and barbecued with our shirts off. I feel really bizarre about that one. I have so many items that have memories linked to them, so many mementos of experiences I've had that mean something to me. I now see the necessity for Joel to relinquish every item that has a memory tied to Clementine in "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"--our lives create memories that have items bearing their significance. That's part of the reason giving movies as gifts is my favorite gift to give, because people love movies not only for the story, but the community in which they watched the movie, the memories of which the film reminds them.
And so, by "walking in someone else's shoes," we are not just putting our feet in a piece of leather--we are trying to empathize with the situations that have made them the person they are, to understand the life they are living. By learning to see other people not only as who they are, but also as a person with a history, most often different than our own, we learn to truly see people as they are. Because if we refuse to attempt to understand people, we stereotype, we assume, we marginalize, and we separate.
This is why I'm not going to try to help Mihir with how he sleeps until I understand it better. His insomnia looks, to me, like it could be easily fixed: stay awake until 9pm, then go to sleep and get up a normal hour, instead of sleeping all throughout the day. Maybe before, he didn't have good sleeping habits, and changing them could help him. Or maybe he has thoughts that keep him up at night (like he's told me before) that can't be put away in order for him to sleep. Maybe he has a condition that can't be cured by responsible habits. And see, I'm not even walking in his shoes; I don't know what it's like to have insomnia. I'm just trying to be understanding and consider the situations that have created him to be this way. It's not bad--it's just different than me.
The people that have shoes that are difficult for me to walk in are the bros. You know, the stereotypical douchebags that only care about video games, sports, drinking, and girls. I don't know how to empathize with the type of life they are living because I think it's petty and worthless. Do I need to empathize with them too?
Therefore, I think Prof. Campos chose a worthy topic to speak about, because people inherently consider the others around them. In doing so, after this speech, people will be more open to stepping out of their TOMS/Chocos/Savile's/Nikes and into someone else's shoes, and hopefully they'll be okay with the foot fungus that remains--a reminder of the lives of others.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Stairwell Sessions
I was sitting in my room, reading The Girl With The Dragon Tatoo, when I heard music playing somewhere in the dorm. It was pretty loud and had that echo-y sound to it, so I assumed that people were playing in the bathroom. Then I heard what sounded like drums, and someone singing really loudly. I wondered how they could have gotten a whole drum set into the bathroom. I thought maybe they just used the snare or something. I kept wondering for about 10 minutes, letting my mind wander as I absent-mindedly read the words on the page, not getting any meaning from them. Then I decided to see what's going on (memento mori!), and I ventured into the hall.
I looked around and found that the sound was not coming from the bathroom, but the stairwell. Two guys were sitting in there, having a jam session. One was playing a guitar, the other a cello. I said nothing and sat down to listen.
I asked afterward about that song, and the guy playing the guitar said it was something he had written in bits and pieces, and had now just put it together. And the guy with the cello was completely improving. How awesome is that? Only in college can this experience happen. I'm glad I took a risk and chose to explore rather than to ignore.
I looked around and found that the sound was not coming from the bathroom, but the stairwell. Two guys were sitting in there, having a jam session. One was playing a guitar, the other a cello. I said nothing and sat down to listen.
I asked afterward about that song, and the guy playing the guitar said it was something he had written in bits and pieces, and had now just put it together. And the guy with the cello was completely improving. How awesome is that? Only in college can this experience happen. I'm glad I took a risk and chose to explore rather than to ignore.
Se7en
Tonight, I watched "Seven" with the same guys who watched "Children of Men," plus one (one guy was out of town). This film was interesting, to say the least.
The film had one of the most exciting chase scenes that I've ever seen, when the detectives go to John Doe's apartment and he sees them as he comes up the stairs. I was very engaged and on the edge of my seat (literally). It was a great scene.
The most intellectually stimulating scene is when John Doe leads the detectives to the site of the last bodies. In this scene, the detectives and the audience really get to see the thought process of the sadistic killer. His reason for killing these people is all in how he views them:
The film had one of the most exciting chase scenes that I've ever seen, when the detectives go to John Doe's apartment and he sees them as he comes up the stairs. I was very engaged and on the edge of my seat (literally). It was a great scene.
The most intellectually stimulating scene is when John Doe leads the detectives to the site of the last bodies. In this scene, the detectives and the audience really get to see the thought process of the sadistic killer. His reason for killing these people is all in how he views them:
Innocent? Is that supposed to be funny? An obese man... a disgusting man who could barely stand up; a man who if you saw him on the street, you'd point him out to your friends so that they could join you in mocking him; a man, who if you saw him while you were eating, you wouldn't be able to finish your meal. After him, I picked the lawyer and I know you both must have been secretly thanking me for that one. This is a man who dedicated his life to making money by lying with every breath that he could muster to keeping murderers and rapists on the streets! A woman...so ugly on the inside she couldn't bear to go on living if she couldn't be beautiful on the outside. A drug dealer, a drug dealing pederast, actually! And let's not forget the disease-spreading whore! Only in a world this shitty could you even try to say these were innocent people and keep a straight face. But that's the point. We see a deadly sin on every street corner, in every home, and we tolerate it. We tolerate it because it's common, it's trivial. We tolerate it morning, noon, and night.
John Doe's thought process makes sense for a person trying to live the letter of the law, a person who is trying to be perfect on his own. Yes, people everywhere are guilty of lust, slothfulness, greed, gluttony, and all the other deadly sins. If a person were trying to follow the law of God alone, they would be infuriated by the world around us, with its blatant disregard for any form of law. John Doe is a Christian extremist, a terrorist for the name of Christianity. It is strange to be presented with a religious terrorist that comes from my own faith. Normally, it's easy to excuse and separate (at least, for other people) when it's someone who claims to be Muslim or something different than themselves. But John Doe is on us.
And Doe's problem is that he desired sacrifice, not mercy. He wanted to purify these people, the world of its dirtiness. But God doesn't work that way. When Jesus came, he did not kill those who were committing terrible crimes or life-altering sins--he ate with them, he talked to them, he chose to be with them when everyone else drew boundaries and didn't dare cross them. Jesus saw the human inside the body, he looked deep enough to know that there was a reason why they were doing these things. He never wrote people off as "prostitutes," or "thieves," or anything else. He saw them as people.
That is where John Doe failed to be like Christ. He took his anger at humanity and threw it back in the form of grotesque torture and violence, all the while thinking he was doing the work of God. But he was terribly mistaken. Instead of killing the obese man, he could have looked closer (American Beauty shoutout) to see why the man was eating his life away. Was he hurting? Was he lonely? All actions have stimuli. John Doe wasn't willing to find them.
I wondered why people wanted to see "Seven." It operates on the same principles that the Saw series does: a man sees people abusing their lives and makes them pay for it, and audiences get to watch/enjoy the punishments he inflicts. Why is it that we love to watch people getting tortured? Why do we love to see violence of outlandish nature? Is it the shock value, the nature of the act is so foreign that our curiosity and conscience is piqued?
David Fincher is no stranger to violence, and I can't blame him--shooting violence is fun. I recently shot a short film with the guys in my hall, and in one scene, a guy is strangled to death. The victim and assailant go around the room, fighting one another, knocking over a lamp and other things. And as I watched it, I was impressed by the realness of it. And when I show it to people, they are impressed for the same reason. It makes the film seem better when we destroy things. Maybe that's what David Fincher thinks to, and the things he destroys are people.
And Doe's problem is that he desired sacrifice, not mercy. He wanted to purify these people, the world of its dirtiness. But God doesn't work that way. When Jesus came, he did not kill those who were committing terrible crimes or life-altering sins--he ate with them, he talked to them, he chose to be with them when everyone else drew boundaries and didn't dare cross them. Jesus saw the human inside the body, he looked deep enough to know that there was a reason why they were doing these things. He never wrote people off as "prostitutes," or "thieves," or anything else. He saw them as people.
That is where John Doe failed to be like Christ. He took his anger at humanity and threw it back in the form of grotesque torture and violence, all the while thinking he was doing the work of God. But he was terribly mistaken. Instead of killing the obese man, he could have looked closer (American Beauty shoutout) to see why the man was eating his life away. Was he hurting? Was he lonely? All actions have stimuli. John Doe wasn't willing to find them.
I wondered why people wanted to see "Seven." It operates on the same principles that the Saw series does: a man sees people abusing their lives and makes them pay for it, and audiences get to watch/enjoy the punishments he inflicts. Why is it that we love to watch people getting tortured? Why do we love to see violence of outlandish nature? Is it the shock value, the nature of the act is so foreign that our curiosity and conscience is piqued?
David Fincher is no stranger to violence, and I can't blame him--shooting violence is fun. I recently shot a short film with the guys in my hall, and in one scene, a guy is strangled to death. The victim and assailant go around the room, fighting one another, knocking over a lamp and other things. And as I watched it, I was impressed by the realness of it. And when I show it to people, they are impressed for the same reason. It makes the film seem better when we destroy things. Maybe that's what David Fincher thinks to, and the things he destroys are people.
Children Of Men
Yesterday, I watched "Children of Men" with a few of my friends in the dorm. I had heard mixed hype about this film; Peter Travers said it was the second best film of the decade, but Jordan Boboltz (a girl from my high school) said it was not very good. Equally reputable critics indeed.
I try to think of themes from the film, but I can't come up with many. What stands out more than anything is the absolutely gorgeous camera work. The whole film is shot in the steady-cam style, shaking as it runs behind Clive Owen and such, and it was the perfect choice of style. It fits right in with the tone of this dystopian film, and if the camera were any smoother, it would have just felt wrong.
One scene in particular blew my mind: it is early in the film when Theo has just met Key, and the group is riding in a car. The whole scene is shot in the car, but the camera rotates and turns to each character in the car, as if the car has no roof and there's a tripod in the middle of the car. It's absolutely brilliant, and I've never seen anything like it. I learned that the crew developed a special rig so that the camera operator, the film director, the cinematographer, and one other person sat on top of the car, and the camera was hanging into the car and could rotate 360 degrees. The actors had choreography in which they would lean their chairs back and forth depending on the position of the camera. But you could never tell--they pulled it off flawlessly.
Another beautiful shot is when Theo and Julian step out of the van that held Theo captive, and they walk into this gigantic warehouse looking building to talk. The conversation ends, and there's a shot of Julian talking to Theo as he walks away that simply tracks away from her, but for some reason, it stuck out to me.
That is the main thing I will remember about this film. The way it was shot is something I will go back to when I need cinematography inspiration.
As for ideas I can apply to my life, I can't really think of any. One seemingly insignificant man decides to risk his life to save the only hope humanity has for continued existence. That's the story. There is a scene when the baby starts crying and everyone stops fighting that is interesting. No one had seen a baby in decades, and when they do, their anger and rage subside to their unavoidable awe. Maybe the filmmakers were trying to say that respect for life is the only thing that can end wars. That those fighting for political power or international domination or unsettled hatred can no longer fight when they recognize the humanity all around them, be it in the houses on the street they are patrolling, or at the end of the street in the faces of their enemies.
Overall, the film was entertaining, but for me, it became a film textbook which I can study in the future.
I try to think of themes from the film, but I can't come up with many. What stands out more than anything is the absolutely gorgeous camera work. The whole film is shot in the steady-cam style, shaking as it runs behind Clive Owen and such, and it was the perfect choice of style. It fits right in with the tone of this dystopian film, and if the camera were any smoother, it would have just felt wrong.
One scene in particular blew my mind: it is early in the film when Theo has just met Key, and the group is riding in a car. The whole scene is shot in the car, but the camera rotates and turns to each character in the car, as if the car has no roof and there's a tripod in the middle of the car. It's absolutely brilliant, and I've never seen anything like it. I learned that the crew developed a special rig so that the camera operator, the film director, the cinematographer, and one other person sat on top of the car, and the camera was hanging into the car and could rotate 360 degrees. The actors had choreography in which they would lean their chairs back and forth depending on the position of the camera. But you could never tell--they pulled it off flawlessly.
Another beautiful shot is when Theo and Julian step out of the van that held Theo captive, and they walk into this gigantic warehouse looking building to talk. The conversation ends, and there's a shot of Julian talking to Theo as he walks away that simply tracks away from her, but for some reason, it stuck out to me.
That is the main thing I will remember about this film. The way it was shot is something I will go back to when I need cinematography inspiration.
As for ideas I can apply to my life, I can't really think of any. One seemingly insignificant man decides to risk his life to save the only hope humanity has for continued existence. That's the story. There is a scene when the baby starts crying and everyone stops fighting that is interesting. No one had seen a baby in decades, and when they do, their anger and rage subside to their unavoidable awe. Maybe the filmmakers were trying to say that respect for life is the only thing that can end wars. That those fighting for political power or international domination or unsettled hatred can no longer fight when they recognize the humanity all around them, be it in the houses on the street they are patrolling, or at the end of the street in the faces of their enemies.
Overall, the film was entertaining, but for me, it became a film textbook which I can study in the future.
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