A Time of Preparation from AOL

The Revolution Will Most Certainly Be Televised: The Hunger Games: Mockingjay, Part 1

Continuing my yearly duty of screening the latest installment of the Hunger Games franchise, I have for you my take on part one of the adaptation of the third book in the series (are you following me, or am I going too fast for you?): The Hunger Games: Mockingjay, Part 1. And this really does feel like a chore right now, to the point I regret seeing the first movie two years ago, thus locking my self into seeing the series through.

And while I had reservations about the violence and general theme of that film, considering its target audience is made up of teenagers and middle schoolers, I couldn't deny that it was gripping entertainment that actually had some ideas behind it. I remember next to nothing about the second movie, but going back and re-reading my review I see that I liked it. I'm guessing that my lack of memory has less to do with the ravages of old age as it does with the fact that the themes established in the first movie weren't really expanded on, and the story itself not moved ahead as far as the movie makers would want you to think. This third film does add some new thematic wrinkles, but in the attempt to make an extra billion or two, the splitting of the last story into two parts made the action drag a bit, and in the end it seemed like a series of events strung together as opposed to a real driving narrative. In other words, we are again faced with moving only a short distance after a time consuming journey.

Mockingjay, Part 1 picks up shortly after Katniss Everdeen (again played by Jennifer Lawrence) was plucked out of the Games by the rebel forces. She's been brought to District 13, once thought destroyed, but living on in a huge underground bunker complex. Not only does District 13 exist, but it is the hub of the resistance, complete with a rather sophisticated military, considering the situation, and a functioning government complete with a president (Julianne Moore). The late Philip Seymour Hoffman returns as Plutarch Heavensbee, a sort of media consultant / propaganda minister who sets Katniss up to be the face of the rebellion. (the two parts of the film were shot together, so Hoffman appears in both movies, even though he died before principle photography was wrapped up. Some key scenes he was supposed to be in were rewritten putting other characters in his place). Katniss is  resistant to taking on this role at first, but does so after the rebel president agrees to rescue the other surviving tributes from the Capitol, including her partner Peeta Mellark (Josh Hutcherson), and grants him, in particular, a pardon for his role in Panem's own propaganda campaign. (Liam Hemsworth also returns as the third corner of the seemingly obligatory YA fiction love triangle)

I started out "with" the movie, but my commitment to it slowly waned as the film dragged on, and I began to question the validity of the message. In Mockingjay we are finally out of the game, and the revolution is on, and it is televised. We are in District 13 and it stands in stark contrast with the opulent Capitol. The conditions are harsh: there are heavy restrictions on what people can possess, there is a strict prohibition on alcohol, everyone wears the same bland dark grey clothing that wouldn't be out of place in Mao's China. And I guess that's what struck me. Both the Capitol and District 13 are heavily regulated, controlled societies. The Capitol keeps the districts of Panem in check by a combination of bread and circuses and using the Hunger Games to ferment animosity between the districts and loyalty to the central government. District 13 maintains a dedicated, spartan populace with promises of a better, democratic future, free of the present tyranny.

But both sides use propaganda and manipulation to promote their cause. Of course District 13's is based on the effective packaging of the truth, while Panem's is pure lies. I still had a nagging feeling throughout the film, though, that neither side was terribly admirable, or at least deserved to be portrayed as such. I understand that we are dealing with a post apocalyptic fantasy, and one geared at younger end teenagers, but the actors are of a caliber (series regulars including Woody Harrelson, Elizabeth Banks and Donald Sutherland are joined by newcomer Jeffery Wright), the presentation so plain, that I couldn't help but think that they're glossing over a basic truth: for District 13 to maintain this high level of disciplined austerity and unity of purpose among its populace it would have to be just as oppressive as Panem.

There is a lot of suspension of disbelief I had to engage in, and I did it happily. I'm mainly thinking of my wonderment at how these rag tag rebels living in a subterranean concrete shaft feed their people, maintain an impressive military industrial complex and manage a rather sophisticated telecommunications system. The electrical power alone would seem impossible to supply. But it is this point that I find hard to get around - that one side appears to my eyes to be the photographic negative of the other; District 13 may be devoid of color and shade, but it is just as manipulative and controlling as their adversary, and portraying it as a benign dictatorship ready to give up that control once the revolution is over is a little more than I can buy.

As for the movie itself, it runs a little over two hours, and begins to feel it about half way through. I thought the first part moved fairly well, but then I realized that the story wasn't going anywhere. They found a way to fill the time, but most of it doesn't seem to matter. A rescue mission, that seems tacked on, becomes the climactic episode, pulling a very faint thread of plot from earlier in the movie. The result of the mission gives the movie a convenient place to finish up and still keep us wondering about what will come next, but after all that time I felt no farther ahead in the story than I was at the end of the second movie (or even the first, for that matter).

There has been a lot of criticism that stretching this series into four movies renders this one a bit moot. I got the feeling that both middle movies are a tad superfluous, supplying a lot of sound a fury while moving the plot along just a smidgen. We could have gotten to where we are much more efficiently if they had edited together half of number 2 with half of this third installment. Or, just do the logical thing and make three movies from the three books. But then that would mean passing on an extra billion in worldwide receipts, and who wants to do that?

Going Nowhere, Not Nearly Fast Enough: "Interstellar" // Movie Review

About a year ago I was pleasantly surprised by the Sandra Bullock, George Clooney space adventure Gravity. I had seen the adverts, read and heard the reviews and was convinced that it couldn't possibly live up to the hype: I was wrong. This week I went to see Interstellar: the Christopher Nolan directed sic-fi space adventure, skeptical that this was just a Gravity knock-off, but walked in open to the prospect of being surprised, considering last year's turnabout.

All I can say is, this is no knockoff of last year's hit (at least not in its totality), but it certainly isn't worth the hype.

I must be up front: I'm not a big Christopher Nolan fan. He's certainly a great action director but, to paraphrase Orson Welles, he likes to come off like a big thinker, which really must be stopped. I thought 2010's Inception was a pretentious fraud: a fun popcorn movie masquerading as existential psycho drama. I liked the Dark Night, the middle movie of Nolan's Batman trilogy, but thought the other two, especially the finale, were depressingly nihilistic. What made the Dark Knight Rises even worse is that he stuck on a happy ending to the doom and apocalyptic gloom.

In the case of Interstellar all signs point to a transcendent reality helping our heroes along, explained away using "reason" in a manner that takes more faith to accept than it does to believe in God.

The plot is very complicated, but at the heart of it the earth, in some not so distant future, is experiencing droughts and blights that are one by one killing all the main agricultural food staples. Corn is the only thing left. After that goes, so goes humanity. Matthew McConaughey plays a former astronaut turned farmer mysteriously drawn, through his daughter, to a secret NASA base. To make a very long and convoluted story short, his mission is to enter into a black hole that mysteriously appeared next to Saturn, following other secret missions that went before. Once on the other side he and his crew are to scout potential planets these previous missions had identified as being potentially habitable, selecting the one that gives humanity the best chance to start over.

There are all sorts of games played with the time space continuum, so that people on earth age faster than those on other planets and solar systems. The science gets fuzzy, as well as the logic, which I wouldn't care about if it didn't make so much of a difference to how the story wraps up. If Inception's problem was that it treated the dream world with far too much concrete linear certainty, here it's that the natural world is treated with the disjointed logic of a dream, and this strategy works no better than the first.

Plus, it takes a long time, over two hours, to get where it's going. I have nothing against long movies, but Nolan, with co-writer (and brother) Jonathan set up a plot so complicated it demanded at least an extra half hour then it probably should have get it all untangled and the loose ends tied off. Even then, it all doesn't fit. Again, I have no problem suspending disbelief in films like this, but not when so much is riding on the science part of the fiction, to the exclusion of a non-scientific explanation for anything.

As I wrote earlier, a recurring point made throughout the story is that so many events seemed to be pre-planned by an unseen agent. The black hole seemed to be placed in just the right place at just the right time. McConaughey's daughter believes that they were given clues to the base's location by ghosts. The scientists talk of the previous missions being led to their destinations by "them," whoever "they" are. McConaughey refuses to believe any of this, stating that if a phenomenon is unexplainable it's just that science hasn't figured it out yet, but it will in time (a very common atheist/skeptic argument when faced with mysteries that defy human reason). There is no explicit rejection of God or the spiritual, but it is clearly implied by how the story wraps up.

I will have more to say about this point soon, because I think a treatment of Interstellar's metaphysics deserves a separate treatment. But I'll leave it at this: I loved the cast, including John Lithgow, Anne Hathaway, Jessica Chastain, Michael Caine, and a slew of cameos and stunt casting that would be a spoiler to reveal. The special effects are jaw dropping for their realism (the budget was a reported 165 million dollars, and every penny of it is on the screen). Some have criticized Nolan for being emotionally detached, but I thought the human characters were drawn as well as one could expect from a sci-fi action adventure. I believed the relationship between McConaughey and his young daughter played effectively by 14 year old Mackenzie Foy, though this probably has more to do with the actors then the script.

I could say these same things about any of the other Christopher Nolan films I've seen: Good actors who elevate the material and mind blowing special effects. But what's missing, now as always, is a soul. For all the black holes and distant worlds, we are still in a closed universe that we are the center of. In short, Interstellar is nothing more than feel good nihilism.

But more on that next time.

Poppies to Keep Us Awake

The World War I Poppy Memorial at the Tower of London

For us here in the United States the 11th of November is Veteran's Day; a moment to say thank you to the men and women who have served in the armed forces, and increasingly to recognize those still serving in uniform. But we have lost the reason why this day is different from all other days, so to speak. Today is the 96th anniversary of the ceasefire agreement on the Western front during World War I, and until 1954 we observed it as Armistice Day to reflect that connection. Even as child, long after Veterans Day supplanted the previous holiday, I can recall church bells ringing at 11am, a faint echo of remembrance that the fighting ended at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918. Here in the States this fact is lost on many people. But in Canada and England the observances still focus on this singular event.

And for good reason. England alone lost upwards of a million people, both military and civilian due to battle, war crimes and disease. Those young adults who were killed, as well as those who survived the experience are often called the Lost Generation. There was mourning for lives that never reached maturity as well for those who were able to carry on but had lost a sense of purpose and meaning in life. We have short memories on this side of the Pond, but even a hundred years after the war began the people of the United Kingdom, and much of the Commonwealth, are still enveloped with a pall of sadness over the destruction, both human and cultural, that resulted from the conflict.

But there was another casualty of World War I. If the Faith is dead, or at least dormant, in Europe today it is due to a great degree to the war. A profound existential doubt hit Western Culture over the years of 1914 to1918, and then was solidified by World War II resulting in people losing faith that there is a providential God who loves and guides human progress. If God is all loving why would he permit such suffering and destruction? What is the purpose of being born if life can be taken so swiftly and senselessly? Where is God in all this? For many, no satisfactory answer was found, so the churches emptied and the culture became increasingly secular. But does this reaction make sense?

While questioning one's faith in the face of calamity is more than understandable, in the particular case of the Great War, I would argue that it, along with World War II, were not religiously motivated conflicts, but came after periods of increased secularization and optimism in the ability of human progress to shape a bright, prosperous and peaceful future. In the second half of the previous century Germany, France and Italy had all undergone Church - State conflicts that saw the place of religious institution is public life greatly limited (some would call it a persecution). We can see here the beginnings of later totalitarianism in which the state claimed complete control over the loyalty and even wills of the people. Nietzsche saw that religion was on the retreat as a relevant cultural and social force, proclaiming the God was dead, and that it was our indifference that had "killed" Him.  The late 19th and early 20th century saw an explosion of world's fairs and exhibitions where the latest scientific and technological advancements were put on display. While many of the items being shown off were the latest turbines or industrial machines, there were also plenty of artillery pieces and other armaments. The industrial revolution had given birth to modern warfare and killing could be done wholesale.

World War I was the time when all the technology, all the political strategy and all the secular notions of progress were put into practice. Our faith was no longer in a providential God who needed to be obeyed, but in science and technology's ability to shape and manipulate nature and the state which would guide and control our lives from cradle to grave. The guiding principle was enlightened human reason's ability to control it all. If World War I was a failure it was in humanity's ability to shepherd itself.

The failure of the churches during this time was that they tended to go along with the notion, even implicetly, of boundless human progress, and in surrendering to nationalism that was the great tool used to stir up hate between the nations. Priests, bishops, ministers and preachers helped promote the war effort, and were really dupes. Yes, there were voices like Pope Benedict XV calling for peace and reconciliation between peoples, but far too many churchmen, both Catholic and Protestant, were preaching "praise the Lord and pass the ammunition."

The church, in the broad sense of the word, has learned from this experience. While not nearly all religious people are pacifists, I do believe that most know that war is not to be glorified and the men and women who served need to be cared for, and not shepherded to their deaths on behalf of blind nationalism. We also know, I hope, the difference between patriotism and nationalism; one being a love of country and the other a love of the state (maybe a discussion for another day).

But otherwise the broader culture has doubled down on stupid. We still believe that science, technology and government are our saviors, in spite of the 20th Century's atomic bombs, gulags and genocides, which used man made tools meant to save us rather to destroy and dominate. Some may point to Islamic terrorism as a sign of how religion motivates wars and conflict, but if we look closely can anyone honestly say that ISIS is motivated by faith, or is religion being used as an excuse for political conquest? Again, a discussion for another day.

The people of England still mourn a century later. There is a temporary memorial made up of clay poppies filling the moat of the Tower of London; one for each life lost by that country. The public out pouring as been overwhelming, with thousands of people coming to visit the site everyday for the past several months. Poppies are usually associated with opium, sleep and forgetfulness. Here they are meant to keep us awake and remembering. But what we remember is important. As Christians we need to remember that we are at the service of the One Lord, Jesus Christ, and while we love our country, we are not slaves of the state. For the entire culture science, technology and sound government are tools that are not goods in and of themselves, but need to be guided by deeper principles rooted in faith, or else all manner of atrocity is possible.

While the memorial's reference to the blood spilled in the poppy fields of Belgium is obvious, the way they appear to be cascading out of a window of the Tower is reminiscent of the blood flowing from our Saviour's wounded side. England, Europe and all Western Civilization suffered a passion in the 20th Century. I pray that we may all soon experience a resurrection of the Faith.

Fr. Robert Barron on John Henry Newman and the Development of Doctrine

Scott Bradlee & Postmodern Jukebox

I was recently introduced to the musical ensemble Scott Bradlee & Postmodern Jukebox (PMJ), by way of a You Tube video of one of their more popular offerings: a jazzified version of the Meghan Trainor hit All About That Bass. Band leader, arranger and pianist Scott Bradlee's premise is simple: take current pop hits and re-imagine them in various pop genres of the past century. And for the most part it works extraordinarily well. PMJ's offerings make two things abundantly clear: first, that pop music, no matter the era, is incredibly elastic and adaptable (Bradlee's observation). The second is that your average pop star today isn't very talented, or more to the point, there are incredibly talented musicians and singers out there who never get a chance because the music industry is more about style, spectacle and shock, and not so much about music.

Yes, the idea of post modernism does play a part here: there is a clear ironic twist to the proceedings. When Jason Derulo's Talk Dirty is redone as a Jewish, Fiddler on the Roof style folk song you know that you're not supposed to take it all too seriously. PMJ's collaborations with cabaret singer Puddles the Clown (Michael Geier) are the height of genre bending bordering on parody. Their version of Lorde's Royals, is superior to the original in terms of arrangement, phrasing and overall emotional punch. But in the video, done in PMJ's minimalist, one camera format (until recently taped in Bradlee's bare white living room), Puddles gently mugs and gestures, indicating a disconnect between his rich and expressive baritone and his "this is a big put on" demeanor (as if performing in full sad clown suit and make up isn't the first hint).

In a way it's too bad, because these guys and gals are really talented. Robin Adele Anderson, Cristina Gatti and Ashley Stroud, regulars who rotate on vocals, all have great voices and know how to work a song. PMJ also features a wide variety of guest musicians and vocalists. Kate Davis, who sings and plays the upright bass on I'm All About That Bass, takes an over glorified novelty song and offers a playful, nuanced performance. In doing so she and Bradlee transform something base and obvious into something sly and almost innocent. A New Orleans Jazz version of the Guns 'N' Roses rocker Sweet Child O' Mine, sung by Miche Branden captures the bombast of the original, with textured horns and vocals, that once again, bring out emotions beyond what the contemporary Pop-Rock genres are capable of. PMJ mine what are too often vacuous lyrics for all their emotional worth, making the words sound like they mean more than they really do. I get it, that's the point: but like with Puddles the Clown, their talent raises these performances above mere parody, making me wonder what they could do with more worthy material.

I could go on, but it's better to listen to this original, fun and impossibly entertaining musical conglomeration.

The Sun Will Melt Your Wings: Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) // Movie Review

Let me get my criticism of Birdman out of the way right off the bat.

There's a scene early where Riggan Thompson (Michael Keaton), a faded action movie star trying to reinvent himself as a serious stage actor, is exchanging dialogue with the vastly more experienced theater actor Mike Shiner (Edward Norton). Shiner is brought in to work on the Broadway production at the last moment after a piece of lighting falls on one of the players during rehearsals (symbolic of the problems plaguing the production thus far). Shiner knows the script because he had helped coach his girlfriend (Naomi Watts) who is in the play and suggested him for the role. When Riggan feeds him a line, Shiner stops him, pointing out that he had just said the same thing in about five different ways. Why not cut out the repetition? Make is punchy, make it blunt, say it once.

Oh, if only director Alejandro Gonzalez Iñarritu and his veritable army of co-writers had followed their own advice. We are repeatedly hit over the head by on the nose dialogue about the pressure Riggan Thompson is under that it assumes the audience isn't smart enough to figure that out by what's going on on the screen. And what's going on on the screen is spectacular, and outweighs any reservations I might have about the script itself, which alternates between slyly wicked and obvious.

The movie begins with the play within a movie ready to go into previews and the production already in shambles as well as in debt. The a fore mentioned Riggan Thompson is still trying to run away from the shadow of the hugely popular superhero franchise he quit back in the early '90's. But now that he's hitting sixty he finds himself  irrelevant in a new world of social media and viral videos. In an attempt to do something meaningful he adapts a short story by Raymond Carver, writing, directing, producing and staring in the project. Along with the felled, now litigious co-star, he's dealing with a hostile daughter just out of rehab (Emma Stone), an insecure leading lady (Watts), a girlfriend who may be pregnant, and also has eyes for the leading lady (Andrea Riseborough), as well as the Norton character who is volatile, abrasive and self serving. As if his friends weren't enemy enough, there's a hell on wheels New York Times theater critic determined to close the play on opening night with her pen (Lindsay Duncan). The only one keeping him sane (barely) is his lawyer played by Zach Galifianakis.

As you can tell, there are a lot of characters to keep track of, but each suffers from an underlying crisis of meaning in life and the emotional insecurity it brings with it. At the same time the movie doesn't accept that their angst is necessarily well earned. When Norton confronts the Stone character on why she's so hostile toward her father she talks about how he was always away during her childhood and later tried to make up for it by making her feel special. Norton responds with a shrug, as if to say, "And? That's it?" As for Norton, he's a cocky loose cannon and readily admits that he really doesn't care if people like him or not, yet he only feels completely self assured on stage. In fact when it comes to his love life the stage is the only place he's ready to perform, much to the horror / frustration of his girlfriend-co-star (you'll just have to see the movie to know what I mean).

As for Michael Keaton's Riggan, there are obvious parallels to his real life association to the Batman franchise, though in 1989 Keaton was a serious actor who took heat for donning the cape and mask from fan boys who didn't think he has action star enough. Here his character tries to prove his artistic theater cred amid reporters who would rather talk about rumors of unorthodox anti aging injections and a possible reprise of his Birdman role. He's a man who is trying to pursue an artistic vision in a world that has stopped caring about art, thus forcing the question if the project really matters at all. The one person in the movie who does care about such things is the Times critic who can't get past the fact that Riggan is a "movie star" who only got to book the theater because of his celebrity, thus robbing a more worthy playwright an opportunity to shine.

Amidst the egos, pratfalls, self destruction, and bizzare twists of fate Riggan barely keeps it together. He hears the voice of Birdman and experiences episodes of magical realism that are obviously going on in his head. Or are they? He reaches rock bottom the night of the last preview when he realizes that the critic has already decided what she thinks, leaving us to wonder if he can pull this mess of a play together in time for opening night. The ending is telegraphed, which was frustrating at first, but they give it enough of a humorously ambiguous twist to keep it from being completely predictable, and staying true to the film's dark yet comic tone.

Like the project that our antihero is pursuing, Birdman is ambitious. It is critiquing our vacuous, celebrity gossip driven, entertainment obsessed times, while also exploring the nature of intimate relationships and the meaning of life. Along with very introspective scenes of dialogue, both internal and external, there is sweeping camera work, and even a touch of CGI action fantasy thrown in for good measure. Iñarritu utilizes long takes and impressive tracking shots that allow scened to develop and meld into each other. While my criticism of the script itself still holds, and it could have been about 15 or twenty minutes shorter, Birdman offered me something alien to too many of my recent movie going experiences: a sense that I was being challenged.