Dark Faith: Devotions and ALL THINGS ME!!!

As the promotional efforts for Dark Faith begin in earnest, Apex Book Company has been running a series of mini-interviews with some of the contributors called Dark Faith: DEVOTIONS. I’ve been loving the responses and want to collect the links to them here. And take a moment to appreciate how much my friends love and respect me…

DEVOTIONS

Alethea Kontis - “The God of Last Moments”

Mary Robinette Kowal – “Ring Road”

D.T. Friedman - “Paint Box, Puzzle Box”

Wrath James White - “He Who Would Not Bow”

Tom Piccirilli - "Scrawl"

Jennifer Pelland - "Ghosts of New York"

Nick Mamatas - “The Last Words of Dutch Schultz Jesus Christ”

Ekaterina Sedia - "You Dream"

Lucy A. Snyder - “Miz Ruthie Pays Her Respects”

Linda D. Addison - "The Story of Non-Belief"

Rain Graves - "Lilith"

Richard Dansky - "The Mad Eyes of the King Heron"

Lavie Tidhar - "To the Jerusalem Crater"

Geoffrey Girard - "First Communions"

Kelli Dunlap - "Good Enough"


Related Posts

Flames Rising - Dark Faith Preview (including my introduction to Dark Faith)

Kelli Owen - "Dark first, Faith second"

Jason Sizemore - "The Ups and Downs of an Anthology"

INTERVIEWS

On my end, I have the unprecedented (in my career thus far) problem (and hopefully this will be a recurring “problem”) of promoting two projects at a time. Thus, the latest bouts of interviews (though King Maker was mentioned in Publishers Weekly all on its own):

Examiner.com - Maurice Broaddus has 'Dark Faith'

Random Musings - Interview with Maurice Broaddus

Innsmouth Free Press - Interview: Maurice Broaddus

Omnivoracious - Jeff Vandermeer - King Maker Maurice Broaddus on the Anthology “Dark Faith”

The Occult Detective - Soul Searching with Maurice Broaddus


AAAAAAAND, reviews of Dark Faith are already rolling in:

REVIEWS
Shroud Magazine

Publisher’s Weekly


P.S.

Rounding out this “All Things Me” post, I’d like to point to two more items:

1) Zoe E. Whitten, hysterically funny writer and tweeter, was wrestling with my novella, Devil’s Marionette in this moving piece.

2) My story “Hootchie Cootchie Man” was listed as an Honorable Mention in Ellen Datlow’s list of notable stories for the year.

Alias, Rimbaldi, and Redemption

“That’s the word he used. Prophecy. Does that sound good or bad?” –Sydney

So many great science fiction shows have an underlying mythology behind them. X-Files and their alien mythos. Fringe and “The Pattern”. Lost and their “what the hell is going on?” mythos. Alias had its own mythos, the Rimbaldi mythology, which often threatened to overwhelm the precarious balance of the themes of the show. Many of Sydney Bristow’s (Jennifer Garner) missions centered around the search for and recovery of artifacts created by Milo Rambaldi, a Renaissance-era combination of Leonardo da Vinci and Nostradamus. Rimbaldi was an artist, inventor, and Pope Alexander VI’s chief architect whose advanced designs got him labeled a heretic. The Rimbaldi scavenger hunt often felt reminiscent of the Da Vinci Code and like with Lost, early on in the show, one might have had the impression that the writers were making up the mythology as they went along.

“Do you believe in redemption?” –Sloan

To SD-6 supervisor Arvin Sloane (Ron Rifkin), Rimbaldi was a prophet and through his journey, he might find eternal life. Sloane was always a complex villain, which is what made him both so charismatic and interesting. As is the case with all well rounded villains, he believes himself to be the hero of his own story. In him we can learn a few things about the perils, cost, and necessities of being a disciple. He was a simple man of faith pursuing the object of his faith with his entire heart, sacrificing all in pursuit of the ultimate Truth.

It began with an epiphany, a moment of truth or an end of self moment of clarity. An encounter with Rimbaldi changed his life, giving it meaning and purpose. It was ancient text he and the other Rimbaldi followers were asked to put their faith in; an ancient text with a vitality for modern times. Through it they managed to divine patterns of hidden meaning in ordinary things. He immediately abandoned his old life, the life of a patriot serving his country, and turned away from people he loved. His friend, Sydney’s father, Jack (Victor Garber) even confronted him about it: “I used to feel sorry for you. Couldn’t you sense it? You’d been abandoned. Left for dead. Disgraced. I pitied you. That you needed Rimbaldi to fill a void in your life. It was like a religion for you.”

“I should never have heard that man’s name.” –Sloan (speaking of Rimbaldi)

Like many disciples, after a difficult path, full of sacrifices, Sloane comes to a place where he regrets becoming a disciple. Jesus once warned his disciples about counting the cost of being a disciple:

Large crowds were traveling with Jesus, and turning to them he said: "If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters—yes, even his own life—he cannot be my disciple. And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple...In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple." (Luke 14:25-35)

The path of a disciple is marked with hard choices fraught with peril and errors in judgment. As Dietrich Bonhoffer argues, "cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline. Communion without confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ … costly grace confronts us as a gracious call to follow Jesus, it comes as a word of forgiveness to the broken spirit and the contrite heart. It is costly because it compels a man to submit to the yoke of Christ and follow him; it is grace because Jesus says: "My yoke is easy and my burden is light.""

Sometimes people come to a point where they feel betrayed by their faith. Many a time, Sloane was left wondering was it all worth his, his own brand of a dark night of the soul. Some folks simply walk away. I’m reminded of the passage in John 6 starting in verse 60, when many of the disciples deserted Jesus. “This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?” they grumbled. And after Jesus questioned some of them (“Does this offend you?”) many turned their back and no longer followed him. So he turned and asked the rest of his disciples “You do not want to leave me too, do you?” Sometimes we may feel like the remaining twelve disciples. “Lord, to whom shall we go?”

“I don’t know what your beliefs are. If you have a faith. If you expect that something follows this life. You might have none. But if there is a chance that there is something else, that we face the consequences of our actions in this lifetime … this is your last chance to do what’s right.” –Sydney

Jesus never claimed that his purpose was to come to have a personal relationship with us. He did, however, say that He came to build his church and called for the church to go forth and make disciples. I’m reminded of this quote from identifying a disciple:

Following Jesus as a lifestyle isn’t a matter of do’s and don’ts as much as an expression of a new identity in Jesus. This identity as God’s image bearers gets expressed toward specific audiences – toward God we are worshippers, toward other Christ followers we are community and towards the very world of people Jesus came to earth on mission to rescue – we join him on mission. While we all sign on to the same calling, God is big enough to creatively invite each of us to a personal pursuit of following Jesus.

Spiritual journeys are difficult. Some people persevere, realizing the importance of questioning and investigation. It’s frighteningly easy to go off of a path as Sloane so tragically found out. Perhaps the object you were following wasn’t meant to be followed, perhaps you made an idol out of something which was good. It can happen in degrees, a slight deviation, and then further down the road you are left lost. What should you do in the face of feeling betrayed? What do you do with your questions and doubts? How do you remedy that? What can you do to prevent veering from the path we’re called to? We’re not called to ignorance. Each of us has been gifted with a will and intellect of our own. The only true betrayal of faith is to abandon thinking about it and seeking to know God. The path may look different for each of us, but the journey must be persevered.

Alias and Compartmentalized Spirituality

Before J.J. Abrams become a pop culture phenomenon (Lost, Cloverfield, Star Trek) he helmed the series Alias. The premise was simple: newly engaged, brilliant, beautiful college student, Sydney Bristow (Jennifer Garner), believes she works for a division of the CIA known as SD-6. Working alongside her estranged father, Jack Bristow (Victor Garber) and under her pseudo-father figure Arvin Sloane (Ron Rifkin), they foil the plots of evil intelligence agencies. Well, turns out that SD-6 is exactly the agency she thinks she’s fighting, after they kill her fiancée, so she goes to the real CIA. Her ''handler,'' Michael Vaughn (Michael Vartan), sends her back into SD-6 as a mole where she will team up with their other inside agent, her father. Oh, and it turns out the mother, Irina Derevko (Lena Olin), she believed was dead the whole time was actually a KGB agent who betrayed her father and often seems set to either reunite and bond as a family or kill everyone. Then there’s her long lost sister, but that’s another story.

Simple enough of a premise.

So each week Garner essentially got to play new characters with new looks, a living doll for the writers to dress up and play with (which became a blue print of sort for shows like Dollhouse, though Eliza Dusku couldn’t quite pull off the same feat due to her thin acting and with the inherent flaws of the show). The thrilling, over-the-top missions, provided the adrenaline rush while at its heart, the show was about family tensions (taken to the extremes because there’s nothing like a family of superspies squabbling over Thanksgiving dinner).

“The truth takes time.” –Irina

The life of a double agents is a mercurial one. By necessity they have to lead secret lives and while at first or on the surface it may seem exciting, it takes its toll. Living with the desire to tell their friends and family, be honest and real with them, about who they are. Only allowed to tell the truth when convenient or absolutely necessary. And when the truth comes out in drips and drabs, their friends are left with a sense of betrayal, not knowing if a single thing said was true, and leaving them feeling like they were only dealing with a stranger.

It was an exhausting box for Sydney Bristow to live in. She had to constantly be on guard, to be one step ahead of her enemies, her friends, and her family as she led her double and sometimes triple (quadruple?) life. The series explored what it meant to be obligated to conceal who she was, to compartmentalize her life and live in the shadow and fear of secrets, even as she assumed multiple aliases to carry out her missions. Trained to constantly conceal part of who she was, blocking off parts of herself, she was the quintessential double-minded woman.

In the same way we can compartmentalize our spirituality as well as our lives. Our duplicitous lives lead to a sort of spiritual dissociation. This is the way of how (secret) sins work, how they infiltrate our lives and we manage to continue to function. They may start small or innocent enough, manageable enough that we can put it away, lock it up in a box in our heart. Boxes we can control and keep hidden. But those boxes stack up, become bricks in a wall eventually sealing us off from God’s rebuking and restorative voice. We rot behind that wall.

Our scalded souls become numb to our sin. We can read the Bible, hear sermons, and not truly want or feel convictions of our sin. We become trapped in a cycle: attachment, attraction, sin, guilt. Lather, rinse, repeat. So we instead choose to walk around with a band-aid, self-medicating ourselves enough to continue as we always had. Such that the bandages are so thick, they further block your relationship with God and hear His voice. Pretty soon a band-aid isn’t enough to keep us together and soon our wounds are wrapped in a bandage. Then we’re hobbling on crutches. But we keep treating the wound, even as all of those accumulating scars metastasize into a cancer.

It’s the cost of compartmentalization and dissociation until truth pierces the darkness and all of the rot can be brought to light and dealt with.

“There’s rarely an end to the story.” –Jack

Alias had a cinematic quality to it which essentially provided Abrams with on the job training for shooting the movie Mission: Impossible III. “As a (dysfunctional) family drama set in a hyperreal world,” as Abrams once described the show, Alias was almost hobbled by the Rimbaldi mythology (a thread of the show’s premise left for another review) which made the show wildly uneven as the writers didn’t seem to know which theme the show should revolve around. Thus the frequent tinkering designed to make it more accessible as the show constantly re-invented itself (nearly as often as Sydney did).

Still, for its flaws, the show offered constant thrills to gloss over it: from Sydney seduces intelligence out of a Russian aboard a plane, escaping just as he gets sucked into the engine; when Sydney has been captured and tortured and the torturer is revealed to be her mother; when Sydney realizes that her roommate has been murdered and replaced with her genetically altered arch enemy. Episodes ended with a bang, seasons ended with cliffhangers, and mysteries deepened and further entangled (often teetering under the threat of collapse). And when in doubt, Jennifer Garner was easy on the eyes and talented enough to make us buy into her house of implausible lies.

Mission: Accomplished.

Between Brett and Brooks... (King Maker Reviews)

Right now, King Maker is only available over in the U.K. and in Australia, but thanks to Jim Mcleod, I know what it looks like on the book shelves. And in the hands of rabid fans.



For those especially anxious to get their hands on a copy of King Maker, here's a place that offers free worldwide shipping. Here are some early reviews:

-Science Fiction and Fantasy (a review I'm particularly proud of though I swear I'm not going to live and die by the reviews)

-Fantasy Literature
-gillpolack
-Adam Christopher - Steampunk, Superheroes, and Science Fiction
-Civilian Reader
-Neth Space

Homicide: Life on the Streets – A Review

Premiering on January 31st, 1993, right after the Super Bowl, Homicide: Life on the Streets was one of the best written, best acted, grittiest, smartest dramas to hit the television airwaves. It used cinema vérité techniques (handheld cameras, jump cuts), had convoluted continuing storylines, and paved the way for shows like The Shield and The Wire (the only shows truly in the conversation of “best cop show” ever).

“I believe in justice. I believe in life.” –Pembleton

The show was brought to the screen by Barry Levinson (Diner, The Natural), Tom Fontana (St. Elsewhere, Oz) and David Simon, who wrote the book the show was based on, Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets. They created a police procedural completely new to the television landscape. It focused on the bleak realism of the job. Repetitive, focusing on the interaction between the detectives—during the long, boring stretches of paperwork and stakeouts—and how they go about solving the cases; and how spiritually draining, but socially necessary, the work was. This was in the pre-C.S.I. era, without flashy visuals and before terms like DNA or trace evidence entered our popular lexicon. To recap, jittery camera work, ill cut scenes, character centered, non-flashy visuals, set in Baltimore and airing on Friday nights. Needless to say, the show never became a breakout hit.

“Some things transcend normal logic.” –Howard

As the series opens, we’re introduced to rookie detective Tim Baylis (Kyle Secor) as he joins the Balitmore homicide team, an ensemble including Richard Belzer (whose character, Det. John Munch, is now in the Guinness Book of World Records for having been on the most television shows, currently a regular on Law and Order: Special Victims Unit), Yaphet Kotto (Alien), Clark Johnson (The Wire), and Ned Beatty (Deliverance). In a lot of ways, Homicide is the story of Bayliss’ journey from wide-eyed rookie (haunted by his inability to close his first case, the murder of a young black girl named Adena Watson) to world weary (as he explores his dark side and his sexual nature) to spiritually numb.

“If you had a worldview, you would see that by solving this little conspiracy it might tell us something about the human condition.” –Corsetti

He is partnered with cocky (“I’m proud of my pride.”), brilliant Frank Pembleton played by Emmy-winner Andre Braugher (Thief, Frequency). This cast was also unusual in that it was predominantly black, a rarity on television. But while Bayliss is the connecting thread of the series, Frank Pembleton anchors the show through Andre Braugher’s gravitas. Through their partnership, like with the rest on the series, the series explores how the volatility of the partnerships, many like marriages, allow them to work through the horrors they face every day. Ultimately, that’s what the show is about the worldview it requires to navigate the (dark side) of the world.

“Let me … box with God. Because in this line of work—be it mutilated priest or overdosed drug addict—faith only gets in the way and twists you up.” –Pembleton (Something Sacred pt I)

Police officers stare more intimately and more often into the face of evil. They deal with the worst of what society has to offer on a regular basis, observing and cleaning up after the evil that men do. It takes a psychological, emotional, and spiritual toll on them. Frank Pembleton most brazenly challenges and questions his worldview.

One of the great things the show did was examine the very humanity of the detectives. Just like the exploration of Tim Bayliss’ bi-sexuality was handled with subtlety and aplomb, so was the examination of Frank Pembleton’s spiritual life. Over the course of the series we see his faith challenged, extinguished, and slightly rekindled. As his wife Mary (played by Andre Braugher’s real life wife, Ami Brabson) observed: “When I first met you, you believed in things other than yourself … [like] God.” But after all that he had seen, as far as Frank was concerned, “God had become ‘the great light show’, too busy in the next county making hunchback babies.” Faith had become a lie, “blind faith is the crutch of fools.” But it bothered her that he lost his faith and belittled hers, and his crisis of faith impacted the cases he worked and their marriage. Cursed with not only an intellectual curiosity, but also a need to find out the truth, Frank continued to seek and challenge his world view and those of everyone around him. Because he needed something to help him navigate through the darkness.

Any choice of a worldview requires a leap of faith, to believe that your worldview is the “right” one. I believe quest/knowledge journeys begin with a leap of faith, that is, what we choose to put our trust in. For some, it is ourselves (the individual or humanity). For some, it is science (the determination of our senses). For some, it is the spiritual (under the assumption that there is more to this life than presented, both in terms of the spiritual and in terms of after this life). To quote from the blog of my friend, Rich Vincent:

“Christianity does not consist in a series of verifiable and interlocking hypotheses. Nor is it a philosophical system consisting in satisfactory, mutually consistent propositions… the way that truth is sought and engaged with is not through detachment but through a living relationship of faith and love with the object we seek”. The Christian seeks more than “objective truth,” facts, or information. “The goal is not to find information, or even to discern fact, but to bring ourselves, as living subjects, into engagement with reality, culminating ultimately in a participation in the ground of what is real”.

“You don’t leave any room for something good to happen. A moment of redemption. You don’t believe in anything.” –Bolander

Widely considered the most realistic cop drama ever aired (and Andre Braugher being perhaps television’s finest actor), Homicide: Life on the Street gives viewers a different view of detective work. During the course of its run it garnered two Emmy Awards, three Peabody Awards, three Television Critics Awards, two Writers Guild Awards, and was named to TV Guide's "The Greatest Episodes in TV History" and "TV's Greatest Characters" lists (as well as their list of “The best television shows nobody is watching”).

The show rarely followed the rhythms of an hour long drama and definitely showed no sentimentality. When it did go for an emotional moment, such as when Pembleton—who had refused to attend the funeral of his fellow detective who had committed suicide—gets in his dress blues to salute his fallen comrade, it resonates with power. As an example to how tight the writing was, one of the episodes which won an Emmy, "Three Men and Adena" , took place in a single interrogation room. Another award winning standout was the episode “The Subway,” wherein Vincent D’Onofrio is pushed in front of a subway. The story unfolds in real time as he is pinned under the wheels and once they lift the car from him, he will die. [One of my personal favorite episodes was “Black and Blue”, again featuring Pembleton in the box, eliciting a confession from a suspect he knows to be innocent.]

Put simply, this was one of the most influential, cutting edge, ahead of its time police procedurals in the history of dramatic television. The star-turning performance still mesmerize (and many of Hollywood’s finest show up in guest turns). Were it to air today, it would be found on cable, much like its creative inheritor, The Wire did.

House - “Broken” (Part II)

(continued from Part I of An End of Self Confession aka “Physician Heal Thyself”)

“I’m out of plans.” –House

Only after a terrible tragedy, House begins to realize how much deeper his emotional problems lie than a Vicodin addiction. This marked his final stage of fully bottoming out. To finally reach a place where he is tired of fighting, worn out by the struggle to do better, losing hope that you’ll ever find wholeness or the light. Feeling broken, beyond repair, as if something is fundamentally wrong with you and you don’t know if you’ll ever be fixed. Afraid to be around others for fear of saddling them with all of your baggage; or worse, letting your disgust and anger with yourself pour out over them. You’re not where you wish to be, realizing the clash between what you believe and say you are about versus how you are living. Your life and circumstances not playing out the way you had imagined. Hitting bottom means we would rather die that continue to live the way we’ve been living. Reaches the end of his self, sense of independence and need to control when he admits that “I need help.”

“I want to get better. Whatever the hell that means. I’m sick of being miserable.” –House

Only from this place could he face his demons, or put another way, sometimes you have to lose everything to find the “ground of your being.” For one thing, he had walled himself off from everyone one around him. The thing about walls is that you can’t live behind walls and love as you should. Feel loved like we should. People can’t experience you loving them from inside your walls. You can’t living behind them grow closer to God. But you have to come to that conclusion on your own and decide that you want to risk living life in a broken and fallen world that could hurt you. You have to risk experiencing the pain that comes with that world. And that’s a scary proposition. You have to risk knowing and being known. And the more you experience someone who knows you, especially in your sinfulness, it exposes the lie. And that’s a scary proposition.

There is also the core belief that we can’t live without the self-medication. Life shifts. Gaining and losing people, places, and things leaving feelings of resentment, anger, self-protection, and abandonment in its wake, losses remind us that all isn’t as it should be. They remind us that life is painful. How do we experience and react to that pain? Sometimes we numb ourselves, medicate, act out sexually. Old wounds, be they lies we’ve come to believe about ourselves or quietly trying to please a distant father (because his opinion of you has shaped who you are and how you are) need to be confronted. Expecting something from certain relationships that never materialized, disillusioned with losses. Each loss presents a choice: passage to anger, blame, depression, resentment or passage to a greater life and freedom. Growing in love.

“You need to get better.” –Dr. Nolan

The thing is, brokenness can be redeemed. Real love risks and offers redemption and when loved well, we’re taught about God. In all of our brokenness and (self-) deception, in all of our brokenness and desperation, we can come before the Lord and be fully accepted. Fellow writer, Carole McDonnell, said this about laying things at the cross of Christ: “I've learned to not ask God to make me what I would've been if life hadn't gone as badly as it has. In Christ, we are restored from whatever pain we had...but the restoration is not to bring us back to the great might-have-been self. True restoration carries the pain and brokenness still, but also Christ's light. For those in dark to know that we understand some of their pain, and that God-with-us.”

There is a power to putting our feelings to words through prayer, sharing our stories of woundedness, and finding healing as we push one another forward. Moving forward is the key. As Dr. Nolan reminds him, “You’re not God, House. You’re just another screwed up human being.” Apology and confession allows him to acknowledge his failure, move on, and maybe begin feel better about himself.

So he sets out on the path of figuring out how to get from the place where he is to where he wants to be. It’s like starting life all over again: learning how to trust people, how to open up to people; trying to make connections rather than deflecting. Because as House raps (yeah, you read that correctly) “if you don’t make connections, then your whole life is a mess.” Because he can’t do it alone. Eventually he will need the support of others to walk alongside him along the path (not the false piety that comes from an inability to let go of past griefs and hurts).

And even as he goes through the process of shedding the lies he’d wrapped himself in and other people’s expectations of him; at the same time, he (re-)discovers who he is and what he was meant to be: a healer. The thing about wounded healers, is that they understand the pain so intimately. They know what to ask and they know when the “pain meds” aren’t working. They are living reminders to not let the past define you, but to always be working toward who you were meant to be. And that there is hope of becoming whole.

“We’re proud of him, we wish him well, and we hope to never see him again.”--Dr. Nolan

In short, “Broken”, which feels a lot like House M.D.: the movie, may be the best episode in the show’s five-plus season run. And that’s quite a bar that it’s clearing.

House - “Broken” (Part I)

An End of Self Confession aka “Physician Heal Thyself”

From its debut, House M.D. has been a great show. It’s medical mystery plays as in as formulaic a way as any episode of Law & Order or C.S.I. and on that level of procedural, it’s been fine. But it has always been the character of Dr. Gregory House himself, played by Hugh Laurie (Black Adder) who makes the show remarkable. He’s been a fascinating character study, a blend of arrogance, brilliance, charm, wit, and selfishness; a man in pain, who heals others pain.

The two hour opener of season six makes for an interesting departure episode for the show. Other than a brief appearance by Robert Sean Leonard as Wilson, Laurie is the only regular cast member to appear. There isn’t a medical mystery, per se, to solve. There’s just two hours of watching one of television’s most fascinating characters at his most vulnerable and finally facing up to his brokenness.

It's easy to play armchair psychologist as his wounds keep piling up. He has long term unresolved issues with his father. He’s in constant pain due to his leg and has been self-medicating (drugs, porn, and prostitutes) for years. He’s lost the love of his life and hasn’t figured out how to open himself up enough to love. Broken mind, broken heart, broken body, broken spirit, broken sense of self … sometimes you have to realize the level and depth of your brokenness before you can begin to heal.

At the close of season five, we see House bottoming out. It had been coming for years: the Vicodin abuse, risking jail, his license, a downward spiral of self-destructive behavior. By the time he checks into the Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital, he was suffering delusions (including a sexual encounter with his boss, Dr. Lisa Cuddy (Lisa Edelstein)). As the season opens, House is going through drug withdrawal. Once the meds have cleared his system, and the accompanying hallucinations gone, House is ready to check out. However, despite his voluntary commitment, it isn’t as easy for him to leave as he thought.

As the episode is directed by longtime "House" producer Katie Jacobs, she brings in the star of her previous medical drama Gideon's Crossing, the great Andre Braugher (Homicide: Life on the Streets), as Dr. Darryl Nolan, the head shrink at Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital. House needs Nolan's support to get his medical license reinstated and Nolan wants House to get truly well. The two begin a spectacular game of cat and mouse--that much greater with two powerhouse actors going up against one another--with House plotting con after manipulation while Nolan lets him know that he can’t con a con man.

“You need to stop fighting the system. You need to let me do my job.” –Dr. Nolan

“Broken” is a journey towards redemption: the first step in a very long and non-linear path. It’s a risky gambit because part of the appeal of House has been all of the things that make him so dysfunctional, his woundedness is part of what makes him tick: his emotional unavailability, his inability to love and the denial of his own problems, all of which his colleagues put up with or gave him a pass on because he did such good work.

A lot of folks don’t know what to do with folks who are truly hurting. They are quick to label them crazy or drama queens, accuse them of self-aggrandizing behavior. To be fair, condition not always easily recognized, hidden behind walls, and people who are hurting aren’t always the most cooperative of “patients.” Often scared or indifferent and stubborn, or whatever else their posture of woundedness, they are unable to give voice or words to their state of despair or hopelessness. Burdened with the weight of guilt and shame, and self-contempt, they might pull away from people, not wanting to let others see our wounds believing them to be too ugly.

“They didn’t break me. I am broken.” –House

House needed to bottom out in order to get to a place of true, restorative healing. However, this came in stages (and throughout the series his friends often wondered “is this is? Have you finally hit rock bottom?”). When he first arrived at the Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital and even after he had kicked the drugs, he hadn’t reached his bottoming out point. He was still an open wound spewing wherever he went. An uncooperative patient more content to scheme and get out on his terms in his way, constantly alienating people with his arrogant behavior and pushing them away before they could abandon him (not trusting them to be there because that’s what his father and life had taught him).

This is where House had found himself. Narcissism and anti-social behavior were just a few of his self-destructive behaviors, often screwing up relationships as if that was the goal. That’s the thing about addicts and addictive behavior: they scheme, lie, and take others down. They take advantage of their friends, seemingly valuing failures more than his successes, not quite being able to get out of their own (self-destructive) way, and never quite being honest to those around them. And in House’s case, he trusts in his intellect and ability to read people over making actual connections with them; using his intellect as a defense as he pulls away from people.

So House keeps trying to do things his way, finding a measure of healing in dealing with his own pain by helping others ... as he schemes. He develops a close relationship with his new roommate, Alvie (Lin-Manuel Miranda) and a frequent visitor, Lydia (Franka Potente). Alvie helps him uncover incriminating information about Dr. Nolan for a blackmail scheme and convinces Lydia to loan him her car to sneak out a delusional patient, Freedom Master, in an attempt to undermine Dr. Nolan’s course of treatment.

Easy to wallow in lostness, trying to fix rather than move on; or become caught up in machinations and manipulations, creating scenarios of crisis so that one can swoop in and play the hero. It’s still about trying to maintain a sense of control, to manage something in order to create the illusion that things are still okay.

to be continued ...

The Deep End – A Review

The television landscape needs its steady supply of the big three shows: cop show, legal show, and hospital show. The cop show is in a curious place. Where not too long ago it was defined by Homicide: Life on the Streets and NYPD Blue, one now has to go to cable to get their fix (The Closer, The Wire, The Shield, even the network show, Southland, is now on cable) or else sift through endless Law & Order and C.S.I. iterations. The hospital show, in the wake of ER has had its void filled with everything from Grey’s Anatomy to recent entries Mercy and Trauma. For a dose of navigating the quagmire of legal morality, we have Raising the Bar (on cable), The Good Wife, and now The Deep End.

Obviously The Deep End has taken its cue from Grey’s Anatomy, focusing as much on the sexual hijinks of the cast as their cases, without the heart or insight or sharp writing. The show moves quickly from interview, to office politics, to plunging the new arrivals into cases, the proverbial deep end. These first year associates—grunts or newbies—are quite analogous to medical interns in that they do the scut work of their superiors as a part of their learning process. So they are finding themselves even as they are learning, overworked and underappreciated, too caught up in the race to realize that such pursuit of career over everything can lead to an empty way of doing life.

“Stop looking for a Savior. They don’t exist.” – Beth Branford (Leah Pipes)

As they live, eat, and sleep with cases, the new associates seek out mentors to help them figure out the life and path. For most of them, they have Rowdy Kaiser (Norbert Leo Butz), who the writers still aren’t sure how to write, in the role of nurturer and guide. Instead of a McDreamy, we have a Prince of Darkness (Cliff Huddle played by Billy Zane) with his mercenary, all business approach, and we have the partner with a heart—and let this be an indication of the level of writing we’re talking about, the partner’s name is Hart (Clancy Brown).

“Every man has a come to Jesus moment when he asked not what’s gonna get him paid or laid but what he knows to be true.” –Rowdy

As such, the show is about discipleship, about trying to find the best way to live out their mission’s call. What we can't escape is the power of learning in community. We've lost the idea of journeying with our teachers, that teaching and knowing have a relational component. The master-student relationship is an important one when it comes to the idea of "making disciples". In a lot of ways, people have gotten away from what the picture of making a disciple looked like. It called for a teacher to walk alongside their disciples, live life with them. The master/teacher embodies, incarnates if you will, the teachings and faith is lived out in the context of a community.

“It’s what we do in the worst of times that tells the world who we really are.” –Hart
Right now, there’s little to differentiate the cast of interns as they are straight out of central casting when it comes to clichés. Just like it’s hard to care about their endless goo-goo eyes and bed hopping when 1) a few have already declared themselves in love within a couple of episodes of learning each other’s names and 2) Grey’s Anatomy has already illustrated that you can quickly exhaust the possibilities of partner swapping pretty quickly, to the point of ridiculousness. This is a law show for the ADD and easily titillated set.

The Wolfman – A Review

“Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright.”

The idea of a re-make of the Universal Studios classic, The Wolfman, undoubtedly sounded better in the pitch meeting than it did in execution. Updating the story for modern times, with modern effects, and positioned as an anti-Valentine’s Day movie, starring two stars who are eminently watchable and elevate anything they’re in, it seemed like a sure bet. Yet we are left with this joyless cinematic whimper in moonlight.

The Wolfman sets itself up as the story of a prodigal son, Lawrence Talbot (Benecio Del Toro), who has returns to his father, Sir John Talbot (Anthony Hopkins), after the death of his brother, Ben Talbot (Simon Merrells). There is no fatted calf for his return, only blood, body parts, and the trappings of a mystery. The movie reminded me of a string of horror clichés strung together for two hours, a lesson in bad writing.

It begins with a violent opening scene meant to hook the audience. Opening scenes are meant to assure the audience that they are in good hands. A strong opening doesn’t have to mean an exciting bloodletting, it is just the promise of what’s in store (though, upon reflection, sadly, it delivers on what it promises in the opening. You basically get it for two hours). The movie then tells us the story rather than let it unfold—with heavy handed flashbacks which were the equivalent of narrative info dumps and at some points literally telling you what’s going on on-screen—and thus doesn’t give cast much to do.

Joe Johnston knows how to startle us with his jump cuts, but startle is as deep as the thrills get. There’s no escalating of tension, no depth of characterization to study, no layered plot to get lost in. There’s just the visceral [thrill] of chase, catch, kill. The music cues in the unlikely event that we missed anything, the aural equivalent of dripping blood on a book cover. At no point did this movie exactly go for subtle.

“There is no sin in killing a beast. Only a man. Where does one begin and the other end.” -Maleva (Geraldine Chaplin)

Werewolves are a classic horror trope. Similar to what we see with the creature Mr. Hyde, they are the monster, the beast, inside us. As lycanthropy is a disease passed from father to son, with echoes of Romans 6:6, we’re reminded that we have a corrupted self within us, a side, a nature, in us that we must tame, restrain, or kill. Still, we mustn’t let this view blind us to the fact that we were created in God’s image and instead teach us self-loathing.

“He can only be released by someone who loves him.” –Maleva

There was a man with two sons, both of whom he wanted to follow in his footsteps. The prodigal decided to live life on his own terms, while the other remained with his father. Soon, however, the road got rough and the prodigal ended up doing all sorts of things to survive, eventually hitting rock bottom. He realized that he had placed himself in that situation, prayed about it, and returned home. His father prepared a huge celebration for him in order to say “welcome home.” In other words, it is a story of ruin and reconciliation, a story of a spiritual journey.

“I have to save him … just tell me what to do.” –Gwen (Emily Blunt)

Whether we realize it or not, we’re all looking for a home where we could feel safe. A place of belonging and rest. Home. Ignoring the place of true love, combined with our need to fill our inner hole, causes us to look elsewhere. The deepest cravings of our hearts demands to be filled, enabling addictions. Our lostness makes us cling to different things to find (self) fulfillment. In God we have an invitation to intimacy, to a safe place to call home. We have a nearly instinctual resistance to him. Our independence, our need to control, prevents us from coming to our senses and falling to our knees. Unwilling to dare to let myself kneel down and be held by a loving God. To believe in the promise of forgiveness. Healing. Wholeness. Love redeems. Love reminds us of our true selves. Love sets us free. Love puts the old man, the beast within us, to death.

“If such things exist…then everything is.” –Gwen

The Wolfman proves to be a mishmash of themes with none truly explores [the movie sets us an examination of a clash of worldviews—the villagers are backwards and foolish (Christian), the gypsies superstitious and speak of curses (pagan), and the inspectors with their scientific method (modern) and does nothing with it]. Not that I need some heavy meditation on the human condition, but, frankly, that’s one of the points of the werewolf trope. Instead we get a visceral production of limbs, torsos, and intestines strewn all over the screen (heedless of the fact that increased graphic violence doesn’t create chills), that attempts to get by on loud, boo moments. There was a scene beginning with Lawrence’s time in an asylum that had potential for some true horror, but the producers squandered it. One measure of a werewolf movie is by their transformation scenes (one of many reasons An American Werewolf in London was so great). The Wolfman provides great ones that look especially painful. Other than that, we’re left with fast cuts, special effects, and stylishly costumed thespians with little to do beyond their three faces of tortured, anguished, or afraid. In a word: meh.

Snowmen – A Review

“The unending year of the snowmen”

DISCLAIMER: I saw an early version of this film. Final editing hadn’t been done.
Snowmen is a movie of good intentions. It is aimed squarely at the wholesome family fun crowd and makes no secret of it having warm fuzzies to impart and lessons to teach. And it barely escapes the orbit of feeling like an afterschool special.
“I don’t have to be remembered forever as the pathetic bald kid.” –Billy

Written and directed by Robert Kirbyson, 10-year-old Billy Kirkfield (Bobby Coleman) is convinced that he's dying from cancer. His baldness, a lingering effect of his treatment and constant reminder of his mortality has left his abandoned by all of his classmates except for his two best friends, Lucas Lamb (Christian Martyn), a plucky “pacifist” and recent Jamaican immigrant, Howard Garvey (Bobb'e J. Thompson). Billy is determined to by remembered, staging bigger and bigger stunt in order to make the history books. Of course there’s a journey of self-discovery as they conquer neighborhood bullies, unite a community, learn from/teach their parents lessons, and realize that fame isn't as important as family and friends.

“It’s like so super important, you’re like … wow.” –Lucas

The adults in their lives—Billy’s car salesman Dad (Ray Liotta), the Mayor, the school Principal—often prove to be largely insincere; more concerned with image, spin, appearances and publicity. Having formed a kind of Losers Club, where the social rejects have banded together. Billy wears the stigma and shame of being sick. It has infected his whole being, not just being tired of his condition, but allowing it to determine how he sees himself, how (he believes) others see him. It’s like letting a sin, a condition, a lie we’ve come to believe about ourselves, define us. And he is more than just his sickness.

“I gotta do something so that people don’t forget me.” –Billy

Part of our soul yearns for immortality. Sometimes, it’s an issue of our self-worth, wanting to show that our lives meant something and that we made a difference or mattered while we were here. So Billy begins to do things in order to be remembered, from hitting with snowballs, to getting on the news, to performing stunts. Thing is, as a relational being, not only do we find our meaning in our friendships and in our family, but our relationships have an eternal aspect to them. We can get caught up in wanting to do something big, something profound, only to realize that conquering the Kill Hills of our lives or even setting the world records wasn’t the point. As we go about our daily lives, we experience God moments, opportunities to create memories and touch other people’s lives. Where the doing the things that “matter” may be as simple as helping people through tough times and thus impacting the lives of lose around him. As we reflect on our life stories, when people talk about someone living, good life, it’s not what they think, but how they did it. Being a good friend leads to ripple effects and becomes truly profound.

“People do not like missing out on opportunities.” –Reggie Kirkfield

A lot of threads are woven into this movie: the need to defeat bullies, the building of snowmen, the will he/won’t he tension of Billy’s dying of cancer, Billy’s relationship with his father. The movie doesn’t balance them well as the various strands don’t quite come together. With so many messages being thrown at us, it diffuses the message of movie. And don’t get me wrong, we are beat nearly to death with the message stick. And because the movie makers are so focused on making sure their message came across, Snowmen ends up feeling treacly and earnest, but far from profound. One can hope that by the time of its final release, the movie will have been tightened up, with its jokes/humor punched up. Because it’s not a perfect movie, I’m letting the horrific Jamaican accent as well as the “comedy relief of the cute little ethnic child” thing pass.

How to Train Your Dragon – A Review

“The Dragon Whisperer”

DISCLAIMER: I viewed an early screening of this movie. Not all of the animation was completed in spots. That said, my capsule review is: boy + Vikings + dragons = WIN!!!

When you hear words like “computer animate” and “Vikings”, your first thought might be Beowulf. From DreamWorks Studio (Shrek, Madagascar, and Kung Fu Panda) comes How to Train Your Dragon. Based on the book by Cressida Cowell, the movie tells the story of Hiccup (Jay Baruchel), who doesn’t exactly fit in with the rest of his Viking tribe. Whereas they have what he demurely calls “stubbornness issues”, bred early on in the craft of warfare and dragon slaying, he meekly goes about failing at trying to live up to their expectations. His world is both really turned upside down and given direction when he encounters an oft-whispered about, but never encountered, Night Fury species of dragon; and has to challenge his fellow Viking to see things from an entirely new perspective.

The focus of the movie revolves around two relationships: Hiccup and his father, the Viking chieftain, Stoick the Vast (Gerard Butler, 300) and Hiccup and his dragon, Toothless. (Okay, three if you count Hiccup and Astrid (America Ferrera, Ugly Betty)).

“I need to make my mark.” –Hiccup

Our hero, point of view character, and narrator, Hiccup has a modern voice, full of snark and sarcasm that gets him through life. He wants little more than to do something with his less than ordinary life that will get him notice, status, and/or a date.

“I know what I was and I knew what I was meant to be.” –Stoick

Because he is such a laughing stock to his community, and a disappointment to his father, he is constantly told that to make his life, to find his true calling and purpose, he has to “stop being all of you”. It’s a frustrating lesson to be formed by, to be seen strictly in terms of potential or calling, yet offered little guidance to become what he’s meant to be. So much so, that it becomes easy to be afraid of being different. He also walks a line between longing to be accepted and having the courage to think differently, because his choices have the potential to cost him his family and community.

“It’s who I am, dad.” –Hiccup

How to best form others is the dilemma faced by parents and teachers. Stoick is no different. He struggles to find a way to talk to his son without the burden of expectation (the lessons learned from his own father, no doubt) believing that he knows who and what his son is meant to be. Just like he struggles to learn his son’s actual gifts and skills and personality and talents; appreciating him for who he is and his existence, not what he can do.

“I looked at him and I saw myself.” –Hiccup

While there seems to be no place for the non-conformers or those outside the mainstream, a benefit to Hiccup being so different is that it helps him to relate to those who are also different. His life had provided him with a skill set and lessons on how to reach out to others who find themselves on the fringe or outcast such as Toothless. Like the journey of the missionary, rather an initial missionary attempting to relate to an indigenous people on their terms, Hiccup had to learn to communicate without words. He had to walk, talk, and think like his new friend. By learn to communicate and being open to learn from one another, he found that he was able to appreciate The Other. Bring something new to the conversation in turn, he was able to show his people a new perspective and a new way of doing things. Allowing both of them to overcome all manner of handicaps, which becomes an important theme in the movie.

“Everything we know about you guys is wrong.” –Hiccup

As for the animation itself, the lush production work is apparent from the first minute of the film.
Its detailed work and great use of shadows added another layer to the movie. The animation proved superior even to the lavish setting of Kung Fu Panda. The aerial scenes of soaring dragons are breath taking, the combat scenes are fierce (say about the same as a The Incredibles level of intensity), and the movie maintains a snarky tone (say about the same a Shrek) yet manages to not be impressed with its own hipness. It’s wickedly funny, with fully realized characters (one in particular there to give some of us some Dungeons & Dragons gaming flashbacks). In the DreamWorks versus Pixar animation battles, usually DreamWorks gets the nod for cheekiness and being an enjoyable ride, while Pixar tends to have more heart and depth to their features. With How to Train Your Dragon, DreamWorks finally makes that leap to fully embrace both and will stand the test of time.

Ninja Assassin – A Review

As a quasi-professional movie reviewer, it is rare that I pay actual money to see a movie. Such occasions are reserved for movies that I want to experience, usually in the company of men. Real men watching a real men type movie. Enjoying the secret things that men do. Such a movie was Ninja Assassin (another such movie was The Hangover, but I saw that with my wife).

“Perhaps the path you’ve chose is not the path for which you are suited.” –Tattoo Artist

Hopes were high. We’re talking executive producers Andy and Larry Wachowski (The Matrix Trilogy) and director James McTeigue, the team who brought us V for Vendetta. The script was written by comic book scribe J. Michael Straczynski (Silver Surfer: Requiem, Thor, Strange, Squadron Supreme).

“It doesn’t make sense in a modern world.” –fbi boss

Ninja Assassin is slowed down by trying to have a raison d’etre for ninjas in a modern world. It’s like the movie experienced delusions of being an international thriller. Like we need a reason: they’re ninjas! It suffered from what I will call “the Hitman effect”: when an action movie decides to take itself seriously, so earnest and without humor rather than embrace its ridiculousness and being an enjoyable experience (like say, a Wanted or Crank). With their peppy mantra of “Weakness compels strength. Betrayal begets blood,” the problem with demythologizing or deconstructing the ninja is that it is reduced to being basically a movie about systematic child abuse by a cult.

Ironically, there was not enough … ninja-ing. In fact, at one point, our hero goes from ninja to Bruce Willis in Die Hard mode. The solo training sequences feel like action masturbation. The violence, once the movie gets going, becomes an excuse to hack limbs and sheer torsos. I’m good with violence for violence’s sake but this exercise in blood spraying was filled with some downright silly, poorly lit fight sequences. Not to mention relying entirely too much on CGI effects.

“All this loss, this waste because you put yourself before your family.” –father

All that being said, I can say that I learned a lot during the course of this movie:

1) It rains a lot in ninja world. Almost every ninja training school scene seemed to be mid-downpour.

2) Blood is red as Frank Miller’s ink well. It was splashed all over the place in ways I haven’t seen since Kung Fu theater.

3) Speaking of cost issues, for as intensive and expensive the training is to create one ninja, they sure have no problem sending a buttload of them into battle. Especially when …

4) You can still bust a cap in a ninja’s ass. This movie would have been a lot shorter if they’d just rolled in the military from the beginning.

5) A few gangs signs thrown work better than Mr. Miyagi’s hands (yeah … a Karate Kid reference. I went there) when it comes to healing injuries. But despite that …

6) Ninjas have keloid issues. At some point our hero ought to consult a plastic surgeon to take care of his scars.

7) Ninjas do not believe in recycling. This was a carefully observed lesson, but I remember from my days in junior high school (cause there was always “that” guy who had them, usually the one who whipped out his nunchuks in shop class), that Chinese stars are not cheap. Yet the ninjas in this movie were tossing them around like bullets in a John Woo flick.

“Every moment of your life is a gift.” –master ninja

And I bet you’re wondering what kind of spiritual musings I had while watching this movie. I suppose I could go on about how you must never forget who you are. Or how the path of the master is one of discipline and self-denial. Or how we must be careful about who our true fathers are and what voices we let speak into our lives. But in truth, the main thing I could think of was how different the New Testament would have read if Frank Miller re-wrote it. Cause you know what makes any story better? More ninjas.

“You were the son I was waiting for.” –father

Ninja Assassin didn’t deliver what the trailers promised, the cardinal sin of movie making. I didn’t even bother remembering or looking up the characters names of the actors/actresses who played them. What’s the point? The best any of its makers can hope is that this will do for kusara-gama (I think that’s what my Chinese star wasting friend from junior high shop class called that chain sickle thing … which of course he brought to class) what Bruce Lee flicks did for nunchuks. Or, maybe not. The last thing I need to do is come home to find my boys whipping their belts or dog leashes around at each other.

The Blind Side – A Review

The key phrase to keep in mind while watching The Blind Side is “based on a true story”. Directed, written by John Lee Hancock (The Rookie), the movie sprang from the book "The Blind Side: Evolution of a Game" by Michael Lewis. In this true story, Michael Oher was adopted by the Tuohy family, thrived in his new environment and currently plays for the Baltimore Ravens. As such, I won’t get to give my near obligatory commentary of this being like Diff’rent Strokes or Webster brought to the big screen. Truth be told, it’s a much better movie than that.

As a teenager, Michael Oher (Quinton Aaron) survives on his own, virtually homeless, when a feisty Memphis belle, Leigh Anne Tuohy (Sandra Bullock, executive producer of Crash thus no stranger to movies with racial themes as a backdrop), spots him on the street. On what seems like a whim, she invites him to stay at the Tuohy home for the night. Which becomes another night. Then another. Then they bring him into their family. The family helps him fulfill his potential even as he helps them discover things about themselves. The fact that this was based on a true story ameliorates the stretches of credulity.

“You have to ask yourself ‘Is this me?’” –Leigh

Michael Oher is an outsized, introverted teen from the poverty-stricken projects of Memphis with no academic record and a crack addict for a mother. Outcast, too big, too stupid, too poor, too black, he feels shame due to the system’s failure. Barely educated after years of neglect, Michael can scarcely speak, much less read. The school system had given up on him as he was passed along as someone else’s problem. Not a magical Negro by any stretch, he is, however, “the chosen one”, the lucky one, the one that makes it.

There’s a perception that the poor want to live as they do, where they are because they are lazy or as the result of their choices. The reality is that most want to transition out of the streets, but they were let down, if not abandoned, by the system. These are the forgotten, the invisible, “the least of these” that Christ often spoke about.

Often people will do something for the poor they encounter and are shocked that they didn’t get a drop to their knees cry of gratitude (the unspoken sentiment being “they should be grateful to get anything”). Forgetting that the poor are human beings, with pride and inherent worth. They don’t want to be anyone’s feel good project. They want what everyone wants: to be treated with respect and dignity; valued because they too were created in God’s image. So asking for a simple thing as having their name respected isn’t too much to ask. In the final analysis, all Michael needed was for people to believe and invest in him.

“Look at the wall. ‘Christian”. We either take that seriously or we paint over it.” –Coach Cotton (Ray McKinnon)

The question is “why do the Tuohys do it? What would make them take in this penniless stranger and make him a part of their lives? A desperate coach finagles a way for him to attend their private Christian school, but we know his motives. The Tuohys have a strong allegiance to Ole Miss, so they could just be boosters with a long term plan. Yes, there is a case that could be made that this movie is guilty of being a white liberal fantasy implying that poor, black folks need only have a hand up (or could only get by) with the help of some rich, well-intentioned white folks. But there’s not that “Oh, Lawdy, thank you” type undercurrent to this (and this not-so-veiled racism is addressed when Leigh confronts some of her well-to-do-friends). The central theme is about the need to invest in people and create family; about how to open up your home and lives to take in “the least of these.”

There’s a cost to discipling or mentoring others. You pour in your time, energy, emotional resources, often at the sacrifice of time and energy from your family or friends or other responsibilities. Partly because at the end of the day you want to know that you’ve made a difference and that people are better off from having encountered and shared life with you.

Jesus set the example, having led by serving. He saw needs--physical, emotional, or spiritual--met them, and THEN spoke. It was more important for him to walk alongside his disciples and pour himself into their lives—getting a towel and washing the feet of those who walked beside him—rather than isolate himself. Even knowing that some would deny or betray him later.

“This team is your family.” –Leigh

Hollywood knows what stories to base their movies on as it seems content to tell the same type of story over and over again. Despite sticking to the expected inspirational sports-movie/fish-out-of-water conventions, The Blind Side nevertheless proves to be an affecting movie. It’s more a heartwarming movie about what it means to build, become, and protect family than a football movie.

Aaron portrays Michael Oher as emotionally vulnerable, not an idiot savant with an eyes downcast performance which is all the script asks him to do. Only near the end do we get a sense of Oher the man and what goes on inside his head. It’s almost as if the film, as well as many of the characters in the movie, never get around to asking “what do you think?”

Bullock gives Leigh sass, iron-will and unabashed sentiment* while Tim McGraw is marvelous as her supportive, somewhat long suffering husband. S.J. Tuohy (Jae Head) nearly steals the movie with his humor and mugging-for-dollars cuteness. Involving, affecting and, for the most part, emotionally honest, The Blind Side is a touching depiction of what can happen when some reach out to “the least of these.” And the movie made my wife tear up on at least three occasions, which she thought I didn’t notice. Also a true story.




*The record should also reflect that at no point in this review was Bullock’s performance described as a “hoot.”

Ally McBeal – A Review

"I've been down this road / Walking the line, displaying my pride / And I have made mistakes in my life / That I just can't hide…I believe I am ready for what love has to bring…I've been searching my soul tonight / I know there's so much more to life / Now I know I can shine the light / To find my way back home" --Vonda Shephard "Searching My Soul"

From the first time you hear the familiar piano strains and Vonda Sherhard’s vocals, you immediately recall Ally McBeal like an old friend remembered fondly. It was one of those water cooler shows, or in my case, one of those shows I dissected either later that night or the next day with my female friends. After all, it was about the trials and tribulations of a modern single person trying to find happiness and contentment in her professional and personal life, sort of a Mary Tyler Moore Show for the nineties.

What made the show unique wasn’t only its lead being a single girl in her late 20s trying to find empowerment wherever she can, but how her inner thought life helped her muddle through her day and various life situations. Her secret life of Walter Mitty-esque escapades were filled with dancing babies, swelling heads, tongues sailing across the room to lick the face of a man she finds attractive.

David E. Kelly had a formula he’d been perfecting over the course of his long, often critically acclaimed career. From L.A. Law, Chicago Hope, Picket Fences, The Practice, Boston Public,to Boston Legal, he created sympathetic (if often … eccentric) characters and plopped them into either questionable/hot button issue moral dilemmas or ludicrous plot twists.

“Here I am, the victim of my own choices.” –Ally

Obviously, there are various issues surrounding the reality of singleness, from loneliness to unrequited love, and Ally McBeal wrestled with all of them. The main thrust of the show was about finding contentedness in her situation. It is about discovering herself, finding her own independence and self-reliance rather than (continuing to) make life choices based on a boy or defining herself through the ideas of what men want. It’s important to be content in your circumstances (Philippians 4:11), but some people define content—in terms of singleness—as relinquishing their desire to marry (read: given up). It’s not an either/or: you can both be content with your singleness and desire marriage. The danger of being discontent is that frustration and impatience can lead to forcing things and settling.

The thing about Ally McBeal is that there’s a reason we remember it fondly. The first season was great, after that, the series suffered from a roller coaster of quality. When it was good, it was very good; but when it was bad, it careened completely off the tracks. The second season was hit and miss at the best of times, with the show often becoming a caricature of itself. This is the danger of shows built on such well defined eccentric characters. If they stick around too long, they become one note jokes. Which only led to more ridiculous situations from Ally falling into a toilet and having to have firemen come to rescue her; or propelling herself down a bowling alley after throwing a ball that was stuck to her fingers. [Though the second best season of the show came in season four as the show found its center again with the casting of Robert Downey Jr as her love interest].

Ally McBeal redefined a lot of things (besides fashion, as short skirts were described as being “Ally McBeal short”). It fit neither the mold of the hour-long drama nor of the half-hour sitcom, thus paving the way for shows like Desperate Housewives and Ugly Betty. And it never hurts to visit with old friends.

Nip/Tuck (Season 5.2) – A Review

“Deeply Superficial”

Nip/Tuck is what it is. It’s an over-the-top look at our culture’s fascination with physical beauty, how it defines (and traps) us, and how no pretty the outside it, there is no covering the deep scars of untreated wounds. The season 5.2 DVD set picks up right after the events of the (mid-)season finale, picking up right after Sean McNamara’s (Dylan Walsh) attack from his former agent. The season continues to mine the lives and characters of this broken collection of folks. Not ready to face his life, Sean decides to fake his recovery, pretending to be paralyzed below the waist. All too ready to face his death, Christian Troy (Julian McMahon) seeks to find his replacement to help Sean and pursue a marriage with their lesbian-except-to-marry-Christian anesthesiologist, Liz Cruz (Roma Maffia). In the mean time, would be true love to Christian, former drug addict and porn star Kimber (Kelly Carlson) returns with Christian’s grand-daughter in order to have plastic surgery done on the toddler (injections of botox to correct her “thin, villainous lips” so she can pursue a modeling career).

“Now you are perfect.” –Kimber

We live in an image based culture. From the moment we turn on the television, pick up a magazine, turn on the computer, or step out the door, we’re told what is pretty, what is the sexual ideal, what is stylish, what is beautiful. We forget that there is truth and goodness in beauty, one that we recognize without having to be told (much less needing it plastered all over magazine covers). Beauty should touch a primal chord within us, captivate us, and spur us to adoration, even worship.

“If I could just find joy in my life. Or maybe one day feel human again.” –Budi Sabri (Chi Muoi Lo)

A lot of people live their lives never fully convinced they are loved as they are. Never be able to love or unable to receive love, or allow ourselves to feel and accept love without strings attached or pre-requisites. They are so starved to be loved, they go to desperate lengths to fill that hole. Time and time again, the characters try to stave off the travails of the human soul, the loneliness and sorrow; and fill a hole, desire, and thirst only God could satisfy. They looking for affirmation, validation, appreciation, affection from friends, family, or fans; not realizing that they can’t look for their true self there.

“Even I, in this body, am a true expression of God.” –Budi Sabri

One particularly interesting case the doctors are presented with is that of Budi Sabri, a man with a virus that causes warts to break out all over his body. “All he’s known is pain and isolation” and his condition (and his hope) touches a chord in all of them. He is a reflection of what they all feel (and perhaps what they look like) inside. So the doctors take it upon themselves to try to get him to look and feel human again.

It is critical to not be defined by the past, but to always be working toward who we were meant to be. And live in the hope of becoming whole. We’re all wounded healers, broken or rather, incomplete. In the midst of pain, agony, and infection, we are to encourage one another as a fellow patient and in so doing become part of the healing. When our spirits are wounded, we speak words of resurrection. We offer new hope and new life. We invite one another to live a new kind of life, one where we are continually surrounded by Jesus' transforming love.
As Nip/Tuck prepares to enter its final season (again, another show guilty of sticking around at least one season too long … Smallville says what?), the storylines and surguries only continue to get stranger as the characters have all but been exhausted. In what episode, the writers all but concede that they didn’t know what else to do with Christian besides kill him off. Despite its multitude of flaws, it has just enough left in its tank to limp to its finish line.

Zombieland – A Review

“Time to nut up or shut up”

Zombies continue to be hot. The current boom in zombiephilia may have some of its roots in the literary realm, from the horror of Brian Keene’s The Rising to the comic ridiculousness of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. They have had a parallel surge in film, from the “fast zombies” of 28 Days Later again to the comedy of Shaun of the Dead. Zombieland is very much in the comedic tradition.

The movie review in a sentence: Zombieland delivers on what the trailer promises. Opening with the image of Earth turned into a vision of Apokalips (a present to us comic book geeks) due to a virus, we are introduced to our hero, Columbus. He’s a neurotic, over-cautious, nerd (Jesse Eisenberg, Adventureland, The Squid and the Whale) who has managed to survive due to being a loner as well as by the system of rules he created.

“I’ve always been a bit of a loner.” –Columbus

As he longs to return to Columbus, Ohio to find his family, he comes across Tallahassee (an exuberant Woody Harrelson) who prefers to go by place names, because real ones get you too emotionally attached. The loss he suffered in the post-human reality has transformed Tallahassee into a road warrior who revels in taking out zombies in the most brutal and creative ways possible.

The pair, who gradually come to, at least not annoy each other completely, are completely flummoxed and bamboozled by two young sisters, Wichita (Emma Stone, Superbad) and 12 year old Little Rock (Abigail Breslin, My Sister’s Keeper), in apparent distress.

“When you’re afraid of everything out there, you quit going out there.” –Columbus

Columbus found a lot of things disturbing, from people to clowns, becoming a paranoid shut in. Except part of him still longed to be a part of a family. Columbus treated people like zombies to be avoided even before they were flesh eating monsters. The plague of the 21st century has reduced people to a hateful, violent case of the munchies.

“Without other people you might as well be a zombie.” –Columbus

Zombies are the ideal monsters, perfect to illustrate our dehumanization. These creatures portray a resurrection to walking death. A similar metaphor is found in the case of Frankenstein and the curse of the Mummy. They are the living dead, with no hope, only the eternal existence in a “body of death” (Romans 7:24). They are particular reminders that there are worse things than death.

Storytelling wise, there is nothing present in these monsters to imprint a character on. They are relentless aggression, hunger, and need. So the story has to be about the “humans” surviving. On the flip side, you can do anything you want to them, revel in the brutality of the kills without guilt, because they aren’t human only animated desire. They aren’t even alive.

Like in the movie Slither, this virus like the nature of sin, is an infection that spreads and grows almost like a conscious disease. Because of the introduction of sin, the created order is disrupted, neither humanity (once infected with sin) nor creation are as they are meant to be. This virus transforms us, our way of life, our way of prioritizing what is important, our ways of thinking and going about life. Rage, fear, and insatiable desire seeking to be quenched only leads to a spiral of death.

“I don’t know what’s more tragic: that I have no family or that I didn’t have much of a family to begin with.” –Columbus

Columbus, even Witchita and Little Rock, all want to head home, be it Columbus or Pacific Playland (an amusement park they believe is zombie free). They want a sense of family and their hope is to find their way home. And while they do whatever it takes to survive, life can’t just be about survival. It has to be about living. The solution is relational, as they try to be with whatever family they can carve out.

“I hope you find whoever it is you’re looking for.” –Wichita

Despite having nowhere else to go, they can’t find what they want, not knowing their way home. They are surrounded by the really sick, with the dehumanizing spiral reducing people to relentless aggression and hunger and insatiable need. We’re defined by the world and the loud voices who want us to buy into lies about ourselves. If we’re hurting and chase a high to numb ourselves from the pain or feel a sense of peace, we’re unable to full experience life. And these have inner consequences as we end up running further and further away from home and the less we’re able to hear the voice of the one who loves and speaks love to us.

Whether we realize it or not, we’re all looking for a home where we could feel safe. A place of belonging and rest. Home. In God we have an invitation to intimacy, to a safe place to call home. God has made His home, a place for us to return to, a place He calls us to.

“I wasn’t the only one running from something.” –Columbus

Horror and humor are a delicate balance, with one of the best examples being the Evil Dead movies. Screenwriters Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick have written for Spike and MTV and get by on the kind of snarky banter and self-referential pop cultural allusions seen on Gilmore Girls. This was the debut feature for director Ruben Fleischer and the movie gets style points for its wonderful videogame-esque violence. I loved Zombieland, though now it has me worried that H1N1 may turn my kids into intestine munching fiends ... though that would explain a lot.