Over at The Film Talk we've just posted our next podcast episode in which we discuss three films that I think are hugely important - 'Antichrist', 'Gaia', and '2012'. If you're interested in the end of the world and how to stop it; the politics of nation-building; the difference between provocation and mental illness; and in hearing about a film so good it's close to miraculous, check it out here.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BmfHkB-i3fA] I’m going to turn 35 in January, which feels old enough to consider myself a man, inexperienced enough to still feel irresponsible; halfway to still being younger than Warren Beatty, alive enough to reflect on what really matters. And what really matters? Friendship. If, as my amazing friend John O’Donohue often said, our identities are dependent on our memories, and how we interpret them, then who I am is inextricably linked to my memories of things I have done with friends. Strange to think that I’ve been doing The Film Talk for nearly one tenth of my life. Of course, if Operation Save The Film Talk is the resounding success we all hope it will be, perhaps it will outlast even me (and hey – if you haven’t signed up to support the show and site yet, please do click the link here and consider us – we have some gorgeous gifts on offer this week). But for now, one tenth of my life still seems like a lot.
Which – in one of my patented not-all-that-subtle segues – brings me to Mike and Rosemary Riddell, writer & film-maker, former Baptist pastor and current family court judge, wearer of the most amazing hats and stylised gin afficianado (in appropriate does), a man who considers his dog a spiritual director, a woman who combines sass and spirit in measures I had never seen anywhere else before I met her, friends beyond my previous imagining of what friends could be; and people about whom you’ll be hearing a fair amount in the next year, because they are making a film whose script mingles the sensitivity of ‘Paris, Texas‘ with the humour of ‘Whale Rider‘, and hangs on the most unusual narrative hook this side of ‘Cold Souls‘: Arthur, a middle-aged homeless Maori fella with schizophrenia in Ponsonby, near Auckland, and believes that he is called to impregnate an unhappily married woman named Margaret with a view to her giving birth to the second incarnation of Jesus. Simple enough. He looks at the moon a lot – he made it, you see. He thinks about life. He gives good gifts to broken people. Meanwhile, a cynical television reporter, doubting preacher, and friendly boarding-house owner dance their own way into a deeper appreciation of meaning.
Rosemary Riddell and Tom Burstyn on set
‘The Insatiable Moon‘ is the second best novel I’ve ever read; the script needs no such qualifier: I’ve been excited about this movie since I read the book 12 years ago. Which means I’ve known Mike and Rose for over a third of my life. They’re making the film at the moment, with the mighty actor Rawiri Paratene (Koro the grandfather in ‘Whale Rider’) starring as Arthur, and cinematography by Tom Burstyn, while Rosemary directs and Mike watches his words come alive. The journey to production has been long and tortuous, with funders in and out, some well-known cast members withdrawing after the budget was cut, and only a few weeks ago a step-back-from-the-brink decision not to cancel the film altogether.
Mike Riddell, Tom Burstyn, Rawiri Paratene on set
Mike’s blogging the production here – there’s a delightful sense of a film being born; entirely appropriate, given the novel’s themes of birth and re-birth. (You can become a fan on Facebook here too.) The book’s been out of print for a while, but that will surely correct itself when the film is released. So I’m sending good wishes from God is Not Elsewhere – we know how hard it is to make a film; we’re always thrilled when people put their heart and souls into cinema; if ‘The Insatiable Moon’ ends up being half the film it could be, the literary invention of Arthur in the mid-1990s will have been a gift to the world.
[The video above was made a couple of years ago to promote the fundraising for the film - but it gives a taste of things to come.]
Richard Brody at The Front Row has this interesting reflection on violence and the movies/media in general:
"There does seem to be a great deal of research on the question of violence and of quantity of viewing; but very little, if any, on the subject of treacle. I do worry about the effect of violent films on children, but I worry just as much about the emotional debility, the sentimentalization of kids who watch only child-friendly works. In general, children watch much too much television and see far too many movies in which everyone smiles too much and talks as if they’re on sugar highs—or, simply, where there isn’t enough ambiguity or mystery. The oversimplification of life into tangy bite-sized morsels is as much of a danger, for individuals and generations, as stoked aggression."
I'm fascinated by the critique of sentimentality - and while some may legitimately suggest that I am guilt of such over-egging the emotional pudding myself, I think it's entirely appropriate. At the same time, the way we tell stories in which violence plays a significant role requires sustained attention. My starting point: Is there a qualitative difference between the violence of 'Inglourious Basterds', 'The Dirty Dozen', 'Lethal Weapon', 'Saving Private Ryan', 'Home Alone' and 'Cache'? Of course there is. What's the purpose of movie violence? What are its effects? Can it be cathartic? Can it nurture more real-world violence? And I've come to the view that the human race can no longer afford representations of the myth of redemptive violence for entertainment's sake alone. If you'll join me in the comments section, let's talk about why.
For anyone in Belfast next week:
My friends in Changing Attitude Ireland are hosting a screening and discussion of 'For the Bible Tells Me So', a compelling, informative and moving documentary about the experience of Christian families responding when a family member comes out. I think this film is important because it does such a good job of showing human faces that otherwise are too often made abstract; and it makes a serious attempt at addressing some of the theological questions that are often ignored in attempts at challenging homophobia.
The showing of this movie in Belfast is organized by Changing Attitude Ireland, on Mon 16th November at 7.30pm at the Studio Cinema, Donegall St. Visit Changing Attitude Ireland's website for more details.
Demis
Crazy
What does democracy mean?
Linguists among us already know that it derives from a mashup of the Greek work 'Demis' (meaning large bearded man in a kaftan) and 'Crazy' (meaning a way for Danger Mouse and Cee-Lo to ensure their financial futures and colonise the hybrid brain of the human race for a few years until the next one comes along).
Demis-Crazy, the worst form of government except all the other ones that have been tried (apparently not said by Churchill); the system that resulted in a day off school for so many of us when I was growing up, whose successes can engender social change for the good of all, and whose failures can lead Al Gore to change his appearance.
(Actually, whoever made the comment about democracy being the least of many evils was right to add the rider 'except all the other ones that have been tried - if you want to be inspired by an alternative voting method that aims to be fully inclusive of every voter, and produce results that far more people can live with, more of the time, than democracy as typically understood - winner takes all, satisfying a minority while everyone else grimaces til the next election - then check out Charles de Borda's preferendum system. Trust me - it's fascinating and will change the way you think about how politics is done, and what kinds of social change may already be within our reach. In a weird confluence, the new rules for Best Picture Oscar voting are more like de Borda's system than majoritarianism - one lives in hope that life may imitate art. Consensus - it's the new riding roughshod over the dreams of others.)
But, and you already knew this, I digress.
In 'Election Day', a warm-hearted observational documentary by Katy Chevigny, we see a day in the life of US democracy, on that fateful day when John Kerry was trying to un-swift boat himself; a day, lest we forget, which could have led to John Edwards becoming vice-president, potentially resulting in a rather troubling scandal in the middle of Kerry's first term. (Also makes me think that if the Supreme Court had voted differently in 2000, then last year's most likely Presidential nominee for the Dems might have been his VP. Sometimes things that look bad the first time round seem different on a second look.) In 'Election Day' we see some of the process of how things came together and fell apart in November 2004, following a poll-watcher watching polls, trying to figure out the interaction between the individual and the collective, and taking in the disenfranchisement of marginalised people along the way.
The best thing about 'Election Day' is the way that it reduces our focus from the meta-level bystanding as the scandal of 2000 unfolded - when the world seemed glued to the same photo of that guy peering through a chad to see if it was hanging, swinging, or pregnant (and when I say 'scandal', I don't mean that we should inevitably think that Bush stole the election, nor that Gore should have been crowned prince by the Supreme Court either; just that when it's obvious that not all the votes have been properly counted, that they should all be counted. That would seem a reasonable starting point for agreement on the fundamental principles of Demis-Crazy, wouldn't it?)
Demis-Crazy in Action
And so we see a few polling stations, watching that apparently uniquely US American phenomenon of everyone getting involved, wearing badges, filling out forms, finding out who the volunteer judges are, and seeing it through to the moment when a supermodel news anchor subverts the process before the votes are counted and tells you who has won. The lasting sense I have two days after watching this enlightening film is - on the one hand a reminder that the US American political experiment really might have something to offer the rest of the world, with genuine opportunities for people to get involved, no matter where they are; and on the other, of the apparent brokenness of the system they want to work.
In the UK and Ireland, you register to vote one day a year. If you're not registered on that day, you go to the local electoral office before the election and sign an affidavit. If you don't have a passport or a driving licence or another acceptable form of ID, you can get one made just for voting. It takes a few minutes. Then you get a card with your name on it, which lists the place you're supposed to vote. On election day, you have from 7 in the morning til 10 at night to vote. You don't even need to remember to bring the card with you. Then you go into the voting booth where you get a card with the names of the candidates on it. You put an 'X' beside the name of the person you want to elect (or rank candidates in order of preference if it's a proportional representation election). You fold the paper and put it in a box. Then you go home and watch TV. About four or five hours after the polls close, the votes have been counted. And I mean actually counted, by people, more than once. If the margins are small, they get counted again. And again if necessary. It's amazing. There are no holes to punch, no judges necessary to confirm your identity, it's very difficult to be confused about where you should vote. 'Election Day' is a valuable film because it presents the paradox of US democracy - a system that so badly wants to work, but nobody seems quite sure of how a government by the people for the people of the people is supposed to be produced.
'Election Day', a fascinating contribution to the patchwork of understanding America is available on I-Tunes.