The Last Week

First Day of Shooting Above: We're Nearly There...

And so...it begins...Week Five of shooting.  By Friday evening, we'll be done, the actors can come out of character, the director can have a gin & tonic, the director of photography can confirm if what he calls 'all the information' has been collected, and the writer can sit back with a sense of satisfaction at seeing a story that began with chance encounters on the streets of Ponsonby almost twenty years ago turned into the raw material for a film that, we hope, will entertain, inspire, question, and move audiences when the images and sounds that have been crafted here over the past month are shaped by editing and repeatedly finely tuned into something we call 'The Insatiable Moon'.

But before Friday we'll visit several locations, costumes will be changed, makeup will be made, coffee will be slurped, and traffic noise will be contended with.  (On that note can I respectfully ask those delightful Auckland drivers who insist on honking their horns when they see us shooting on location to PLEASE STOP DOING THAT.  We know you're excited to see a real live movie, but we're trying to work.  Thank you.)  At this point, with 80% of the film shot, it's easy for folk to feel tired; little tensions rise and fall; and sometimes we must ask if this thing is ever going to be finished.  I'm sure it's like this on every film set.  The endeavour of making a movie is a crazy thing - gathering a group of people, some of whom are strangers, some of whom are married, to take moving photographs and record sounds of other strangers pretending to be someone else; to create a story by recording these images and sounds in the wrong order; to rely on the skies to rain when you want them to and to shine when you need it; to hope that the heartbeat that began with an idea in a solitary writer's head might find the flesh of actors growing around it, connect through the sinews of cinematography, be encased in the delicate-boned structure of editing, colour-grading, dance to the elegant soundscape that musicians are composing as we speak, and then be set free to make its case in a multiplex marketplace which, we aspire, is ripe for this moon.  Like I said, making a film is a crazy thing.

But we've reached the last week, and the finish line is in sight.  With that in mind, I thought I'd look for films with the word 'last' in the title that might evoke some of what we're trying to do here in New Zealand.  Any more lasts?  Feel free to comment below...

The Last Temptation of Christ: Guy thinks he's God.  People throw stones.

Last Night: People believe the end of the world is coming, some use it as an excuse to have a party.

Last Tango in Paris: Guy and girl try to find the sacred through sex.

Last of the Mohicans: Guy with amazing hair tries to save the world.

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade: Guy searches for eternal life.

The Last Samurai: Guy who stands out teaches people to be nicer to each other.

The Last Tycoon: Guy tells stories, but has unfinished business.

The Last Emperor: Little guy thinks he's important.  He may be right.The l

Cinematic Reality!

new moon set photo Look - the 'New Moon' set's just like the 'Insatiable One!"

insatiable action on set

I’ve just spent a couple of hours with vampires and werewolves – no, it’s not the annual convention of serious-but-unpaid critics (it takes one to know one), but rather I took the opportunity wearing my other hat as a film writer to watch the new ‘Twilight’ movie and near-namesake of our own little New Zealand film ‘New Moon’, in which various well-dressed neckbiters and lupine creatures with anger management problems compete for the attention of a whiny girl named Bella, and, presumably, for the future of the world.

Bella, the kind of teenager who seems to have no discernible personality beyond complaining about how her 109 year old boyfriend Edward won’t plunge his canines into her skin in order that she might become immortal and pale-skinned too (she doesn’t need any help with the moodiness – if I was a vampire, the last thing I’d want to do would be to give a life boost to the natural span of teenage angst by making her live forever. She needs Oprah, not bitemarks. Now, I’m probably being unfair, and so I should acknowledge that ‘New Moon’ is nowhere near as bad as I had expected; it looks fabulous, Alexandre Desplat’s score is gorgeous, Kristen Stewart does a really rather good job of conveying Bella’s angst; and it will provide some emotional catharsis for anyone who has recently broken up with an immortal being from Transylvania. This is a moot point, however, for I am not here to discuss – and I imagine you are not much interested in – the plot nuances of Stephanie Meyer’s runaway bestsellers and the films that have been made from them. What’s the connection with ‘The Insatiable Moon’, I hear you cry (perhaps)?

Well, other than the semantic common bond via the lunar reference in the titles, both ‘New’ and ‘Insatiable’ moons are stories in which that which is often considered to be unreal becomes real, or in other words, in which magic (of various hues) emerges in a world we already recognize. The ‘Twilight’ books are a metaphor in which some aspects of Meyer’s Mormon faith (particularly sexual abstinence) are explored (none too subtly, I might add); the symbolism is fascinating, if a little clunky (at one point Edward crushes a mobile phone in anger at not being able to communicate with the virginal girl that he loves, under the watchful eye of the lit-up statue of Christ in Rio de Janeiro; the fact that he has a rival for her affection whom she seems also to be in love with is undeniably an evocation of earlier Mormon teaching on polygamy; there is much talk of death and the possibility of resurrection is always hanging around). The difference between the ‘Twilight’ stories and ‘The Insatiable Moon’ (other than the fact that we’re shooting on a budget that is less than one-hundredth of what the American vampires get) is that ‘Insatiable’ isn’t metaphor, but it does believe in magic.

The vampires-in-high-school story seems to have come after the desire to project some dogmatic thinking on the part of the writer; the story of Arthur is rooted, first of all, in Mike Riddell’s experience of living and working in Ponsonby over a decade ago, and the interactions he had with a homeless man, who really did seem to believe that he was the second son of God. (Mike once told me that one of the quickest ways to make bad art is to try to impose a message on it before the story has taken on the contours of something so simple it’s near the point of being tautological: it has to be a GOOD STORY.) Now you may not know that through some technological magic of our own, Arthur himself has been tweeting updates from the set – you can find them on this site, but you can also sign up for them here; one of the most interesting comments that our Second Son of God has made lately is that miracles are sometimes hard to notice, because often they’re so small. (His actual tweet? "One thing God told me. Miracles are so small most people miss them.") It’s with this topic that ‘Twilight’ loses its way, and becomes merely another in a long line of attempts at putting the message before the art. It wants to make everything enormous and melodramatic, as if upon every moment of every scene depends the future of life as we know it. There are miracles in ‘The Insatiable Moon’, but they are of the kind that we often fail to notice – a glance, a touch, an act of kindness; the metaphysical happening under our noses, 24/7, on the streets of Auckland, and of course also among the community of passionate ‘Twilight’ fans too.

Last night a few of us had a late dinner at a sidewalk restaurant, after viewing the first rough assembly of the film so far. It was an emotional experience for me to see the gathered unfolding – in albeit rough-edged form – of Arthur’s story, twelve years after I first read the novel. All I can say is this: the story as I envisaged it while reading is the story that is being captured by the film-makers; so many of the performances are pitch-perfect; and there’s a tremendous sense of excitement as the pieces fall into place. While sharing the meal afterward, a bloke invited himself to sit at our table. He said his name was Pete, had a vodka mixer bottle in his hand, and appeared to be under the influence of one substance or another. It was either the beginning of a short night or the end of a long day for him. But he regaled us with warmth and stories – invoking various languages, riffing about Bob Marley and Haile Selassie, forgetting my name and calling me Sean (I guess one Irish name’s as good as another; there is a labyrinth of complexity to why Pete exchanged my Welsh name for an Irish one, without my having told him I’m from Belfast); but there was one thing Pete said which in my hearing began to distinguish itself as just one of those small, quiet miracles Arthur was tweeting about earlier this week. When I mentioned we were making a film, Pete raised his bottle and declared to the heavenliess (and anyone else who may have been listening) two words that I am unilaterally selecting as the motto for this blog, and maybe – if the director permits – the film itself.

‘Cinematic Reality!’ exclaimed Pete, toasting the sky.

‘Cinematic Reality!’ echoed the director, and the writer, and the producer, and the director of photography, while the stick-out-like-a-sore-thumb-what-the-hell’s-he-doing-here-film-critic-from-Ireland thought to himself: This isn’t how Stanley Kubrick or David Lean or Abel Gance made films, sitting at a sidewalk restaurant eating cold chorizo sausage, and being toasted by an uninvited guest. Or maybe it was. Because it felt just perfect, as if Arthur had sent us a messenger to remind us what we were doing.

There’s a hell of a lot of work still to be done, but we’re coming to an end of the fourth and penultimate week of shooting, and the moon seems to be on our side.

‘Cinematic Reality!’

Transcendence and Compassion in Cinema

Mick Innes as 'John' in 'The Insatiable Moon', filming now in New Zealand

I’m in Ponsonby’s red light district on the set of 'The Insatiable Moon' – the portable gazebos we’re using for shade and comfortable eating are the colour of healthy scarlet; appropriate enough, given that today we turn to one of the most troubling scenes in the movie – a scene in which the hidden shame felt by a character leads to disaster. Everyone’s focused on the task in hand: to portray an awful event as truthfully as possible, without exploiting the audience’s emotions, nor denying the fact that human sorrow is real, and touches to us all. If we’re lucky, we might have an Arthur in our lives, someone who sees through the superficial mores of our culture, resists its car rally speed, and offers a human connection in the midst of the awful things that come to us, hopefully only a few times in a full life.

Mick Innes was our featured actor this morning, and it can’t be easy to do what the script requires of him – I don’t want to give too much away, but for instance, he had to be very cold and hold his breath for a long time today. I met Mick last week at his home, an amazing little place furnished with items reclaimed from the street and elsewhere – it’s one of the most character-filled abodes I’ve ever been; and Mick one of the warmest human beings. You know when people talk about someone having a twinkle in their eye? Mick’s one of them – his face may be lined from what I presume include the vagaries of being an actor; but his smile is overwhelming; his coffee welcoming, and despite his passion for sustainable home improvement, there’s nothing recycled about his performance. Trust me. You have not seen the character he plays – called John in the movie – on screen before. He will make you angry and cry at the same time. His character stands for all the people marginalized by their mistakes, and dehumanized by their community; and as a consequence not allowed to live. Mick plays him beautifully; and seeing him do it is a privilege for me as a writer used to only brining a critical eye to bear on a film once it’s made.

This has been the most illuminating aspect of being in the environs of ‘The Insatiable Moon’ – on the one hand it’s an obvious thing to say that critics and film-makers are two sides of a coin; we need each other, but we’re not always very good at communicating with each other. The reasons are fairly simple – each of us may be considered to have a vested interest in outdoing the other, but usually this either produces unhealthy cynicism rather than the kind of creative competition that we’re all supposed to believe is the nexus at which great art emerges; or, more likely, we just don’t talk to each other at all. Warren Beatty asked Pauline Kael for notes while he was making ‘Reds’ – a magnificent film that seems to get better with age – but she went back to New York soon enough; even a great director and the then most respected critic in the English language couldn’t find a way to make it work. So I’m reticent about overstating just what a film critic is doing on a film set (and while our director knows what she’s doing, I can face the reality that I am not Pauline Kael)…

Maybe it can suffice to say that I’m more convinced than ever that film-makers and film critics are, when we’re at our best, on the same side. We both want cinematic art to tell the truth; we want to share stories to the world (or whoever will watch) that reveal something that no one else has seen before in the way that we see it; we want the curtain to rise at whatever megaplex, art house or out house we’re in, and for something of surpassing quality to appear in front of our eyes. That’s not too much to ask, is it? In that light, I’d love to hear from you about your own thoughts of just what this surpassing quality in movies is – what are the transcendent moments of cinema for you? And what performances have granted you access to a world of compassion that made you want to change your life?

Obama as Empire-Builder: Important Words from John Dear

From John Dear: Last week at West Point, President Obama cited his reasons for sending more troops to Afghanistan.  Obama spoke eloquently.  He insisted our cause is just.  It is necessary, it is crucial.  Killing Afghanis is the way to peace.  The oxymorons rolled off his tongue.  Apparently, it does not matter that wars are bankrupting us. Or sending our young to die. Or leaving them psychologically impaired. Or degrading the environment. Or, bitterest of ironies, breeding a new generation of terrorists.

It doesn’t seem to matter that most Americans want the war to stop, that most Afghanis want us out. It doesn’t even matter that only a hundred Al Qaeda members remain in Afghanistan. The rest have taken refuge in Pakistan. Our new war president says the war must continue.

“You would think that we don’t have enough to do here at home,” Ohio Congressman Dennis Kucinich said this week.

You would think that we don’t have 47 million Americans who go to bed hungry, 47 million Americans who don’t have any health care, 15 million Americans who are out of work, another 10 million Americans whose homes are threatened with foreclosure, people going bankrupt, and business failures. All these things are happening in our country and we’re acting like a latter-day version of the Roman Empire, reaching for empire while inside we rot. We have to challenge this because our future as a nation is at stake. If we continue to militarize, we lose our civil liberties, we lose our capacity to meet our needs here at home.

We have money for Wall Street and money for war, but we don’t have money for work. We have money for Wall Street and money for war, but we don’t have money for health care. We have to start asking ourselves, why is it that war is a priority, but the basic needs of the people of this country are not? And how are we getting the money to pay for the war? We’re borrowing it. We’re going deeper into debt. We’re mortgaging our future. We’re creating conditions where we will become less democratic because we can’t meet the most essential needs of our people. This needs to be challenged. And it needs to be challenged in a forthright way. The issue is the war; the issue is America’s reach for empire. The issue is our inability to meet the needs of people here at home.

Obama and his generals are dead wrong -- this I insist with so many others. The war is illegal, immoral, impractical and plain foolish. It will further divide us. It will lead us into debt beyond our means. It will sow the seeds of terrorist attacks to come.

And one thing more, for the record. We are engaging here in mortal sin. I say this with confidence. War is not the will of God. Bombing sisters and brothers is not the way of the Gospel. This, despite our president and his generals, is not the method of Christ the peacemaker. His way? “Love your enemies. Do not violently resist those who do evil. Put down the sword. Blessed are the peacemakers.” Jesus would have us pursue nonviolent methods of resolving conflict.

“The way forward is for the U.S. to press for all party negotiations within Afghanistan to create a new Afghan social contract,” Joseph Gerson of American Friends Service Committee wrote this week.

This would need to be reinforced by an international conference and actions on the part of all major states involved in the war to help build and support that social contract. This, of course, also means dealing with the source of Indian-Pakistani tensions, and the geostrategic ambitions of the major powers who have insisted on playing, and losing, the ‘Great Game.’

In this holy season of Advent, let me offer a few points. First, we have to stop making an idol out of Obama. He is not a messiah; he is not, as Cindy Sheehan jokes, “The Pope of Hope.” He, like every president before him, is the spokesperson for the empire. He’s increased our military budget beyond that of George W. Bush. No, our hope lies elsewhere. We have a messiah already -- one who is nonpartisan, non-ideological, and most important, decidedly nonviolent. To follow this nonviolent messiah, we must be more than liberals, (or conservatives). We need to be mature disciples. We must place our hope in the nonviolent Jesus and practice his way of nonviolent resistance.

Second, we must direct our resistance toward our nation’s imperial aspirations. When Obama spoke of “protecting our national interests,” he spoke like the Bushes and Reagan, like Johnson and Truman. It’s the age-old logic of empire -- mass murder to protect the powerful elite. This is what we must name and resist: the anti-war of empire.

Third, we have to be suspect of “top-down” thinking. We must reclaim instead “bottom-up” grassroots movement building. Empires require their populations to be docile and obedient, to worship their leaders, to surrender their money and to kill for their elite. They instill in the masses a sense of powerlessness, a sense that nothing can be done. It’s a dream come true when millions upon millions shrug and give up and shake their heads. Or better yet, buy into the myths of empire for their own aggrandizement.

Jesus, on the other hand, calls us into citizenship of the reign of God -- and to resist, nonviolently, every tradition and polity that opposes it. The change comes from the bottom up, as the Gospels show us. And Advent is a time to learn the lesson again.

Too many of us think that Obama will bring the change we want. He won’t, he can’t. Ours is a time of empire, addicted to injustice, violence and war. He hasn’t the power to rein in entrenched bureaucracies, corporate interests, warlike traditions. What might a leader of an empire have to do with Jesus’ campaign of nonviolent resistance? All he can offer is lip service.

That leaves change in the hands of the rest of us, those building the movement of nonviolence from the bottom. Recall how small it all started, in a crib, in what amounted to a homeless shelter. And from there the movement grows, in the hinterlands of Galilee, gathering steam as it approached the great warlike city. “Jerusalem, Jerusalem. If you had only known what makes for peace.”

There, in the warlike city, he dies. The movement is crushed. But then, against all odds, it rises and begins again. This is how change happens, and that’s what we need to remember and reclaim and relive.

And so, fourth, we need to keep rebuilding a grass-roots movement to end the U.S. wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. We need to speak out locally, help our parishes to discuss the questions, and organize public vigils against the war. We need to study and practice the methods of nonviolent resistance.

As my friend David Hartsough, a long time movement activist, told me this week: “We are on the brink of global transformation, of a true global movement of nonviolence, which means, every one of us has to be Rosa Parks. We are all Rosa Parks. We all have to take a stand for peace and justice, resist the wars and build a peace movement."

This will be a long-term project, perhaps many, many years, perhaps the rest of our lives. So we have to be rooted in prayer, patience, and love. We will need to use the three tools of every social movement: education, lobbying, public witness. But we need to base all our public work for peace in God, in the Gospels, in the Holy Spirit.

Fifth, we need to take care of ourselves. And one another. We need to say our prayers, love one another, be merciful toward ourselves, practice interpersonal nonviolence, and quietly intercede on behalf of the world’s poor for the coming of God’s reign of justice and peace.

We must be careful not to engage in the language of results, effectiveness or success. This is not the way of the Gospel. This is the language of empire. We heard it last week. “We have had some success,” Obama said, “killing some Al Qaeda officials.”

In one way or another, success is tied to violence. We are not to speak in this way or think in those terms. We are not to abide by the rules of the imperial game. Ours is a long-haul project of nonviolent resistance that recognizes the ends within the means we use. We will face defeat and appear to the world as failures. But pressing on brings nonviolent transformation.

Finally, let’s put our hopes in the nonviolent Jesus, not on Obama. In these holy Advent days summon images of God’s nonviolent reign, of our nonviolent messiah, of his great speeches. Let’s prepare ourselves anew to become Jesus’ campaigners of nonviolence. As we pray for “peace on earth,” let us lament the latest push that leads to “death to Afghanis,” and do what we can to welcome that greatest of Christmas gifts.

****

John Dear’s latest books, Daniel Berrigan: Essential Writings; A Persistent Peace; Put Down the Sword, and Patricia Normile’s John Dear On Peace, are available from www.amazon.com. For information, or to schedule a speaking event, visit: www.johndear.org.

Anger

I moved a table at a sidewalk cafe in Cambridge, NZ, the other day.  A man growled at me.  It was his table.  I didn't know this.  He growled at me again.  I got angry.  He was already angry*.  We parted, and I remembered the Bertrand Russell quotation that I had seen a week earlier, taken from 'The Free Man's Worship', and quoted in Frank Schaeffer's wonderful book 'Patience with God'.  Maybe this is patronising (I don't intend it as such); maybe it's too melodramatic (unless you see all of life as sacred, in which case all of life can be dramatic too); maybe it's just an excuse for a blog post.  But here it is: “United with his fellow-men by the strongest of all ties, the tie of a common doom, the free man finds that a new vision is with him always, shedding over every daily task the light of love. The life of Man is a long march through the night, surrounded by invisible foes, tortured by weariness and pain, towards a goal that few can hope to reach, and where none may tarry long. One by one, as they march, our comrades vanish from our sight, seized by the silent orders of omnipotent Death. Very brief is the time in which we can help them, in which their happiness or misery is decided. Be it ours to shed sunshine on their path, to lighten their sorrows by the balm of sympathy, to give them the pure joy of a never-tiring affection, to strengthen failing courage, to instil faith in hours of despair. Let us not weigh in grudging scales their merits and demerits, but let us think only of their need, of the sorrows, the difficulties, perhaps the blindnesses, that make the misery of their lives; let us remember that they are fellow-sufferers in the same darkness, actors in the same tragedy with ourselves.”

* I have just been asked by a resident of Cambridge to state unequivocally that 'we're not all like that' and 'it was probably someone from Auckland visiting for the day'.  Happy to oblige.