Saints Act Like, Are Human Beings

Today’s Register post:  what we can learn from saints who give us the creeps.  Relatedly, here is an older piece from Inside Catholic:  I like the way he did it better than the way you don’t.  [link fixed]

Happy Friday that’s not a Friday in Lent!  Oh, I have good stuff coming up next week:  a giveaway, some great music that you will hate, and who knows what else.

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When Kids Evangelize

My post at the Register today is making me a little nervous, since so far two out of three responses are positive ones from atheists.

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Where Be Story Editor?

Roland Joffé’s new movie, There Be Dragons, is about half a good movie.  What is good is so good that it makes the bad parts doubly frustrating.

Let’s start with the good.  The best part was, happily, Charlie Cox, who plays Opus Dei’s founder, Josemaria Escriva.  Knowing very little about the actual man, I had none of the mental baggage that can trouble a fan (“That’s not how I pictured Mr. Tumnus!”).  The Fr. Josemaria he portrays is a strong, happy, humorous man who is not like other men.  When he commands a room with quiet authority, you feel it.  Despite the drama that surrounds him, his actions are not hammy or melodramatic.  You care about him, and want him to succeed.  When he learns to love everyone he meets, you believe it, and you feel glad that you met him, even if only on screen through an actor.  There are several original and memorable scenes which demonstrate the humanity, holiness, and appeal of the man.

When he’s not on screen, however, the movie is kind of a mess.  The first half hour or so is so cluttered with flashbacks, flash forwards, voice overs, text explanations, and a panoply of cinematic hokeyness, it’s a struggle just to figure out what story is being told.

I know what happened here.  The director knew he had a good story on his hands:  Josemaria Escriva was an amazing guy living in amazing times.  But if you just do a biopic of a Catholic boy who becomes a priest and starts a religious movement, who’s going to watch it?  So they decided to give the story some theatrical heft by telling two stories simultaneously:  Josemaria and his onetime friend, Manolo Torres, who works as a fascist government mole in the trenches with the communist rebels.  But that’s not all:  the dual story is being uncovered by the alienated son of Manolo, who is writing a book about Josemaria, who was friends with Manolo, who is telling his son not to write the book, who is writing it because he’s mad at his father, who is mad at Josemaria because he’s  . . . if this is making any sense, I’m telling it wrong.

Any time Manolo, or his son, or Manolo’s rebel beloved, or the beloved’s lover are on screen, the movie descends into — how do you say?  – silliness.  The characters are paper thin, the dialog is contrived, the voice overs never clarify anything, and the acting stinks.  Again, I think I know what happened:  the director has seen one to many Francis Ford Coppola movies, and was desperate to do the whole “violence and sacraments” juxtaposition thing.  A rosary next to a pistol!  A shattered statue of Mary amid the rubble of war!  An angel amid the lunatics in the asylum!  Or is it a devil!  I know it’s not fair to say, “This is no Godfather,” but what can I say?  Coppola pulled it off; this guy didn’t.  The effect is just squirmfully corny.  You really can’t zoom in on someone’s eyes, and then turn the screen into a swirling, glowing snowglobe to signify that God Is Talking.  You just can’t.  I, the marginally sophisticated viewer, will not stand for it.

At the same time,  so many moments that could have been incredibly powerful cinema are just squandered.  For example: the sniper is on the hillside, squinting through his gunsight at Josemaria and his friends below as they celebrate a makeshift Mass during their perilous escape  in the middle of the Pyrenees.  That could have been a gorgeous scene.  With a little movement by the camera, it could have been the pivotal point — could have carried the weight of the whole movie.  Instead, they just kind of  . . . filmed it:  here’s the sniper, here’s the priest.  Bang!  Next scene.  So frustrating.

At a certain point in the movie, I felt as if I was watching a slide show or an especially melodramatic Powerpoint presentation which covered the plot, more than an actual story.   There was no rhythm to the way it was told, just lots of stopping and starting — which isn’t the same.  There was no deeper meaning to the double stories, just added complexity — which isn’t the same.  There were no deeper themes of fatherhood and faith and forgiveness, just lots of talking about those things — which isn’t the same.  They could have cut thirty minutes and half the characters without losing anything.

Well, now I feel like a jerk.  This was a very sincere movie, and believe it or not, I still recommend it.   It made me interested in Josemaria Escriva — I just wish they had stuck with him more, and skipped all the tacked-on extras of the other plot. I think high school students and younger would probably be pretty impressed by this movie, and it would make a great introduction to the saint for a confirmation class.    I can see someone leaving the theater inspired and encouraged by what happened on the screen.  As I said, the good parts (which occur mostly in the middle third of this two-hour film) are quite good.  The bad parts aren’t unwatchable so much as frustrating:  you keep thinking how much better it could have been.

I guess I’m just not willing to go whole hog and rave about it, just because it presents Catholics in a good light and had a budget of more than $750.  I’m awfully, awfully tired of Catholics being the boogeyman in popular culture, but I’m also awfully, awfully tired of being told that everything that’s wholesome is a MUST SEE, a piece of CINEMATIC BRILLIANCE that will CHANGE YOUR LIFE, and is about FIREMEN.  So, this movie was okay.  I liked it.  But it wasn’t an especially good movie.

It was extremely refreshing to see the Catholic faith represented as something that inspires generosity, courage, manliness, and heroism.  I just wish that someone had been inspired to edit this movie, and heavily.

You can see the official trailer here.

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Confessions from the Confession Line

Well, I thought it was funny.

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Next Year In Jerusalem

Today at the Register, you can take a peek at the strange and delicious world of Holy Week in the house of Hebrew Catholics.

I also have a short post set to go on Friday, but probably won’t put a link here, since I won’t be online, I should hope.  Happy Triduum, everyone — see you on the other side!

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All sin is disgusting

Just in case you forgot it was Lent:  All Sin Is Disgusting over at the Register.

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I remembered!

On Friday, I was trying to remind you or myself of something, but I couldn’t remember what.  There were many helpful suggestions — or, well, there were no helpful suggestions.  But as it happens, right in the preparations for my first teenage birthday party  — and here’s a hint for you parents:  if you have seven fragile-looking, waifish, slender reed-type girls to feed, you need to know that four pounds of strawberries, five pounds of grapes, two enormous bags of chips, a giant veggie and dip platter, five large pizzas, a chocolate cake and two dozen cup cakes with cream cheese frosting is going to just barely be enough food.  I’ve never seen anyone eat like that before.  And I never actually saw them chewing, but somehow every time I turned around, the food was gone again.

Oh, and here’s another tip:  never ask a crowd of thirteen-year-old girls, “What would you like to do now?”  They all feel very strongly about it, but are psychologically completely incapable of letting an adult know what they want.  So I think they had a good time.  Or maybe not.  Anyway, it’s over now.

Anyway, right in the middle of the preparations for this magnificent party, I remembered!  I remembered what I wanted to remind you.  Here it is:

Now that Mitt Romney is officially running for president, keep the following in mind.

This:

and this:

Well, that’s all.  Oh, I feel better now.

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Just a reminder

Of what, I have no idea.  I was looking for an old draft, and found this post, titled, “Just a reminder” — but that was all I wrote.  Reminder of what?  Go to confession?  Buy mayonnaise?  Cancel the attack?  Let out the dog?  Turn out the light?  Shear the sheep?  Change the oil?  Feed the fish?   Light a single candle?  Trim my toenails?

Well, any suggestions would be appreciated, I guess.

In the mean time, you can check out my post today at the Register:  “What I learned when my kids went to school”and also yesterday’s post at the Register, “St. Anthony Wet House:  Cruel or Kind?”  which I forgot to link to, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what I was reminding any one about.

Sorry about the low level of blogging lately.  Feeling very under the weather this week, but hope to be more lively next week!

Oh:  does anyone else routinely have dreams that you lost the goldfish?

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We need more sex education.

I’m making myself laugh today, anyway, over at The Register.

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A “Lifetime Contribution” is exactly right.

Speaking of Dostoevsky, I just heard that my dear literature professor, Dr. Mary Mumbach, the former dean and co-founder of Thomas More College, and now dean and co-founder of The Erasmus Institute of Liberal Arts, has just been awarded the 2011 Russell Kirk Paideia Prize for Lifetime Contribution To Classical Education.

I am absolutely delighted to see Dr. Mumbach being recognized.  This is a woman who eat, drinks, and breathes literature, and who has poured her entire life into passing her love on to hundreds and hundreds of college students.  Last time I read The Brothers Karamazov, it was in her Russian Novel class . . . let’s see, about fifteen years ago, almost to the day, I think!  And here I am picking up the book for the third or fourth time.  How I would love to be able to sit in the cafeteria with a cup of coffee and have a chat with Dr. Mumbach.

Hey parents, if your kids are approaching college age, do yourself a favor and check out The Erasmus Institute, where Dr. Mumbach is Dean and professor.  It is a small, rustic, intense place, joyfully Catholic and utterly dedicated to the love of learning.  And there’s a Rome semester!  And look at this curriculum! And if you act fast, your child could have the delightful experience not only of soaking up the best of Western Civilization, but of soaking it up in a chair next to such celebrities as my own brother, my niece, and my nephew.

Seriously, my three brothers and four sisters and I, my husband, and two of my husband’s siblings were all students of the folks who founded Erasmus.  This is a good place – take a look.

One more thing:  as I write,  it occurs to me that, for some reason, I never thanked my teachers for the extraordinary education I got.  I can see much more clearly now how much love, care, and energy went into each class, and I am very grateful!  Thank you, Dr. Mumbach, and Dr. Sampo, Mr. Shea, Ms. Enos, Ms. Bonifield, and Mr. Syseskey.  Life is so much richer because of those four years.

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